


Electrical Storm

by jodyorjen (ficmuse)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 15:04:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6758890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficmuse/pseuds/jodyorjen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buffy's tentative detente with Spike takes a turn for the unexpected when she takes the time to reflect on their past and consider their future. </p><p>Post "Him", Season 7</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Part 1

You ask me to enter  
But then you make me crawl  
And I can't be holding on  
To what you got  
When all you got is hurt

-U2, “One”

I pulled my car into a parking space and turned off the engine. Thunder sounded loudly overhead, and I heard a bolt of lightning strike. Immediately, rain began to pour, hitting the windshield in loud steady thumps. Wonderful.

I unfastened my seatbelt and leaned over to get the small black umbrella Mom had always stashed under the seat. It wasn’t there, and now I remembered Dawn taking it from the Jeep the last time we went out. I looked around the car for anything I could hold over my head. Not a damn thing.

With a curse, I grabbed the plastic grocery bag off the passenger seat, tossed in my cell phone, and ran for it. The rain turned to sleet, little drops of frozen rain soaking my clothes. I got halfway up the steps to Xander’s apartment before my foot slipped on the icy pavement and I fell. My knee smashed into one step, my chin into another. I bit down on my tongue, and the salty taste of blood filled my mouth. Stupid slippy new shoes. I hadn’t felt so uncoordinated since ever.

I scrabbled to my feet, pushing off with one hand. The sleet picked up, coming down harder, pelting me mercilessly. I’d scraped my knee in the fall, shredding my hose. A red dot formed on my shirt and I dabbed at it. Blood. I reached up and felt my chin stinging. My fingers came away streaked with red.

Something smacked me in the top of the head, hard. I looked up, confused, and a chunk of hail the size of a golf ball landed on the bridge of my nose. Rain, sleet, hail and snow within five minutes. That seemed awfully Hellmouthy. Ice clattered all around me in a torrent, and I rushed up the remaining stairs and pulled open the door.

The AC was cranked in Xander’s building. I shivered as the cold air hit me. I was totally soaked from the rain, right down to my underwear. It felt slimy and gross.

I knocked on Xander’s door. After a moment, Spike opened it. He wore a set of black sweats, his hair curly and loose. He was barefoot, and he held open a fat novel. “Hisself’s not here, Slayer,” he said, without looking up.

My stomach did the little flippy thing it always did when I saw him. “C-can I come in?” My voice was shaking as bad as I was.

He looked up, puzzled, and his eyes widened. “Bloody hell, Buffy!” He held open the door and gestured for me to come in. “What happened to you?”

“I fell down some stairs,” I explained, my teeth chattering.

He looked at me. “Well, I buy that, but- how’d you get ice in your hair?”

“It’s probably sleet. That was the happy prelude to big chucks of hail hammering me in the head.”

He put down his book with a sigh. “A hailstorm in November. Just the thing you’d expect-” He looked me full in the face and tilted his head, his brow furrowing. “You’ve got blood running down your neck, Slayer.” My face was numb with cold; I couldn’t feel anything. “Your chin’s all bollixed up.” He reached out for my jaw. Inches away, he stopped. “Just want to see how deep it is,” he explained.

“I’m not afraid of you touching me, Spike.” His soft hands closed on my jaw, and I shivered, my entire body jerking. He stepped back, looking away. “Stop making the kicked puppy face. It’s not you. I’m just so cold that your hands feel really warm.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, still not meeting my eye. Back to square one. “Hot shower. That’s all I need.”

He gave me the patented “you’re an idiot” look, usually reserved for Xander or fledgling vamps. “You should tend to your chin,” he argued. “It looks bad. You may need some stitches."

“I’ll deal with it when I’m not freezing to death.” I shoved the paper bag into his hand and went into the bathroom. In a rush, I stripped off my sodden clothes, threw them into the sink, and stepped into the shower.

It felt so amazingly good, the steaming water pouring over my body. It stung like hell when the lather hit my knee. It was a total boy setup in the shower: Irish Spring, one big bottle of Kirkland brand shampoo and no conditioner. No washcloth. No shower gel.

The clods of ice melted away as the hot water ran over my head. I twisted off the water and stepped out onto the slippery tile floor. There were no towels, no bathmat, just a white terry robe hanging from a peg. I put it on, tying a huge loop at the waist. It was massive, hanging down to my ankles, but it was soft and snuggly, and smelled like Polo.

I grabbed my clothes and headed into the hallway. After pulling open the accordion doors that hid the stacked washer/dryer combo, I threw my clothes in on low heat. With a buzz and a rumble, the dryer began to turn, filling the eerily quiet apartment.

The living room was empty, and so was the kitchen. My knee and chin were throbbing now that I was warmed up, so I made two icepacks, emptying a tray of cubes into dishtowels. “Our Happy Home”, one of them said. It made me feel sad. Anya had really wanted this to be her happy home; they both had.

I lay down on the couch and put my feet up. My knee was swollen already, puffing up around the scrape, and I balanced a cold pack on top of it. I pressed the other pack to my chin and laid my head back. I hurt, really hurt, my knee and the scrape on my palm and above, all, the chin. I could still feel the blood trickling out of the cut. I pulled the towel away, and saw that it was soaked with blood.

“Spike!” I called out. “Spike?” It was so quiet that I’d wondered if he had left.

The hall closet opened, and Spike came out. He stood all the way across the room, as if he didn’t trust himself to come any closer. “I can get you some clothes, if you’d like to cover up.” He looked embarrassed that the robe left me bare from the thigh down, lying open so I could ice my knee. Pretty bizarre considering that he’d licked every square inch of the flesh he was working hard to avoid looking at. But that had been before everything had become so utterly messed up.

“I’m fine like this,” I said. “I need you to get my first aid kit. It’s outside in my Jeep.” I shifted the ice pack on my knee and some ice spilled out, falling on the floor.

Spike frowned. “You need a decent pack on that knee, Slayer. It’s swelling up like a melon.” He walked into the kitchen, coming back out with a hospital ice pack, cracking it to activate it and contouring it to my knee. He took away the towel and ice, handing me two white pills. “Just Tylenol,” he said. “Xander’s got none of the good stuff here.”

I swallowed them dry, grateful for any relief from the pain. “I have some codeine in my kit.”

“Where are your keys?” he asked, as he walked back into the kitchen. I heard the clatter of ice being tossed into the sink.

“In my-” I started to explain. But they weren’t in my jacket. In my minds eye I saw the keys hanging from the ignition, decorated with a smiley face key ring and a lanyard with beads that spelled “#1 Sister.” “I left the keys in the car.”

“Locked?” he asked.

“Not sure.” I told him.

“Not a problem,” he said. He went back in his closet, returning with a hanger in his hand. “Back in two shakes.”

“It’s sleeting and hailing,” I reminded him. “You should take an umbrella.”

“Yeah, and I’ll be sure to put my Wellies on too.” He snorted and slammed the door shut behind him.

I closed my eyes and waited. It was nice, in the big, soft robe, with the sounds of ice hitting the windows. I remembered one winter night on a ski trip to Colorado. My sister and I were tucked into bed with my parents. We had come in, scared by the storm. Hail was clattering down on the roof with a huge racket, and thunder was booming, making the windows shake.

Dawn was tucked between me and Mom, her fine hair tickling my chin. “Why is it doing that?” she asked worriedly. She was shivering, really scared, and I held her tight.

“Doing what, baby?” Mom smiled at my sister and smoothed down her hair.

“Why is the sky making snowballs?”

Mom and I both laughed and Dawn frowned, her little cherub face comically angry. “Don’t laugh at me!”

“Pipe down, little women,” my father said sleepily.

The three of us giggled. “Go back to sleep,” Mom had whispered, and pulled the covers tight around us all.

It was so hard to remember that it hadn’t really happened, that it was all made up. I could feel Dawn’s shoulder underneath my chin and feel the warm flannel of my footie pajamas against my legs.

A loud electronic ringing disturbed my sleep. I opened my eyes, and saw that I was covered with an afghan. “Yeah?” I heard Spike say softly. He was rustling around in the kitchen, opening and closing cupboards. “Yes, this is Spike. She’s here, at Xander’s. She hurt herself, came to get fixed up.” He listened for a moment. “Her chin, mainly. Closed it up with some of that liquid stitch stuff. She slept right through it. Yeah, the girl is exhausted. She’s racked out now on the sofa.” There was a pause. “Yeah, I’m behaving myself,” he said angrily. “I’m not going to molest the Slayer while she’s sleeping. Well. Yes, that’s true. Don’t blame you for thinking it.” A kettle whistled for a second, and then abruptly stopped. “Harris will be home shortly from his meeting. I’m sure he’ll see her home. Yeah, I’ll have her call you.”

The aroma of toasting bread filled the air. Cinnamon raisin bread, my favorite. My stomach gurgled and I sat up. God, I was really sore. I limped into the kitchen, and saw Spike sitting at the counter, smearing butter onto toast. “How you feeling?”

“Like crap, really,” I said. “I can’t believe I hurt myself so badly slipping on some stairs.”

“You weren’t expecting it,” he said. “That’s when you really get hammered, when you’re taken off your guard.” He stuffed a mug full of marshmallows and tipped a teapot over it. The mug filled with bubbling light brown liquid.

“You made cocoa?” I asked. Spike, being domestic, struck me as funny. But if I mocked him, he might not share, and it smelled really good. “Can I have some?”

“Sure thing,” he replied. “Want some toast as well?” I nodded, and he popped some bread in the toaster. He pulled a mug down from the cabinet and set it in front of me. “Sunnydale High School,” was embossed on it in large crimson letters.

“How long was I asleep?” I asked. I felt clear and focused, as if I’d had a full nights rest.

He filled my mug with cocoa and looked at the clock on the wall. “Nearly four hours.”

“That’s more than I’ve been getting every night. It’s been a really busy week. Work, slay.”

“Have to make time to rest, catch your breath. A tired Slayer is a Slayer off her game.” Spike picked up my cell phone and handed it to me. “Dawn called, reminded you that she’s going to a lock in with her friend Kit. Giles called, said you’d missed your appointment with him.”

“I was supposed to help him apartment hunt,” I explained.

“When did he get back?” Spike asked.

“Yesterday. He’s been offered his old job back at the high school.” The toast dinged and Spike retrieved it, setting it before me on a plate. “Apparently, the new librarian decided to ‘leave town abruptly’.” I made air quotes with my fingers.

He laughed softly. “What a rare occurrence in Sunnydale. What he eaten by a beastie or munched by a vamp?”

“Munched,” I said. “And it really pissed me off, because the little bastard that did it was the only one that got away from a whole nest I took out on Heyward.”

He looked at me quizzically. “Another nest moved onto Heyward? Where, that abandoned warehouse?”

“You got it,” I confirmed.

He shook his head. “Someone should really knock that building down.”

“Great minds think alike,” I said. “I torched it.”

He laughed, his eyebrows raised. “You torched it?”

“Flame-thrower, bottle of gas. Kerboom!” I made a big gesture with my hands. “No more vamps moving on up to the top.”

“Old building, wooden,” he said. “Must have gone up like a roman candle.”

“Much sparkage, big whooshy flames. It was really beautiful, actually.”

“Wish I’d seen it,” he said wistfully. He tilted his head and smiled at me, and I smiled back.

“You know, I can really see the appeal of pyromania,” I said. “It’s such a satisfying feeling, seeing something so big and tall come crashing down. Knowing you were the one to destroy it.”

His mood abruptly shifted, his face going hard and closed off. “Need to finish up what I was doing.” He was gone before I could respond, and I heard the door of his room slam and lock.

I felt hurt and abandoned. He’d said that we weren’t best friends any more. I’d truly forgotten, sitting with him. Forgotten that we weren’t anything to each other, anymore.

I’d missed him after we’d broken up, for lots of reasons. I’d missed the way he listened, his head tilted, as if I was the only thing in the world that he could hear. It felt awkward fighting without him, without having him there to watch my back. And, yes, I’d missed the sex, the feel of his hands on me, the sensation of his body within mine. But there was always the nagging sense of shame, the guilt that I felt something for a monster, that I had taken evil inside myself and found solace in it.

The rape attempt had been the clincher, the confirmation that Spike and I were a big ball of wrong. But that Spike was gone. This new Spike who had come back had a soul. I didn’t have to be ashamed of him any more, of caring about him. There was no reason why we couldn’t be friends. Although I wasn’t holding my breath that anyone else would give him a chance.

The front door opened and Xander walked in, shaking an umbrella. “What’s your vote?” I asked. “Bad weather, or a signal of impending Apocalypse.”

“Well, I just put a down payment on an a house, so I vote for bad weather.” He smiled at me happily. “Ooh, big bandagy chin.”

“Got my butt kicked by a stair monster.”

“Sounds painful, and yet, kind of funny,” he said, as he hung up his coat. He came into the kitchen. “So I see you have food a la Spike. The guy can’t make anything that doesn’t involve the toaster or the microwave.”

“He boiled some water,” I pointed out. “That’s stove skill, right there.”

Xander frowned. “Is he bothering you? Because I specifically told him to stay the hell away from you.”

“He helped patch me up and made me a snack,” I said. “Gee, let’s stake him.”

He gave me a worried look. “Are you sure you’re all right?” he said. “You seem a little- cranky.”

“Just tired,” I said. “I’m going to get dressed and go home.”

Xander looked at me. “You’re not starting up with him again are you?” he asked, his voice hard.

“No,” I replied defensively. “No, no and more no. Why would you say that?”

“Because you’re wearing his robe,” he said.

*********

The demon was running really, really fast for something that weighed a ton and was nine feet tall. He hustled through the graveyard at full throttle, just out of my reach. I pushed as hard as I could, ignoring the ache in my knee, and vaulted into the air using a tombstone as leverage. Landing on his back, I held on with one arm as I struggled to get the right angle with the sword to shove it through his head.

He roared and shook, trying to knock me off. One huge arm grabbed my thigh and squeezed. I bit my lip hard to keep from screaming, Agony. My leg, my leg, oh, this demon had fucked up my leg. It was snapped or broken or something else bad and crunchy. Red hot pain speared through my thigh.

My vision began to blur, and I heard a faint roaring in my ears. Grabbing the hilt of my sword, I tilted it and rammed it home. The demon fell, and I fell with him. I rolled away, stopping when I slammed into a gravestone. Red sparks filled my field of vision, my eyes burning. The impulse to curl up in a ball and rest was nearly overpowering, but I fought it and tried to stand.

I did scream then. Deep, searing pain crashed over me like a hammer. Using all the energy I had left, I pulled out my phone and hit the arrow button, one, two three and then send. Brriiing. Brring. The tone seemed loud in my ears.

“Hello?” said a tinny little voice.

“Help me,” I said loudly.

“Hello?” said the voice. “Can’t hear you.” It was Spike, and he sounded annoyed.

I brought the phone to my mouth. “Leg’s broken,” I said, gasping with pain. “Help me.”

“Buffy! Buffy, where are you?” Spike screamed.

The world was growing dark. But it was night. This was darker than dark. Was there a word for darker than dark? Darkerest? I really needed to go back to college.

“Rest in peace,” I told him. It began to snow, little flakes landing on my face. It felt nice, and gentle. Little wet hands, Dawn grabbing my nose with her mittens and giggling. “Let’s make a snowman, Dawnie.”

I dozed, the snow falling on me from heaven. I wish I remembered if it snowed in heaven. If it did, where did it come from? What was higher than heaven? Something in between outer space and heaven. That place that must be where the snow came from, for the angels, and my mother.

I saw myself lying on the ground. I looked uncomfortable, down there in the icy grass. My leg looked funny, all bent, and the snow around it was dark. A shadow was moving, faster than anything could move, coming straight for me. The figure knelt at my side. “Buffy? Wake up.” He sounded so sad.

Strong hands lifted me, pressed me to a broad chest. I knew those hands. “Spike,” I said.

“Slayer,” he said. “Stay with me.” He was running, running fast, and my head banged against his shoulder.

“I don’t like it when you call me Slayer,” I told him.

He laughed oddly, his voice strangled. “Bossy bitch.”

“You know you love it.” I closed my eyes, and let go. Spike was here, and he could fight the demon. He was strong, like me.

“Open your eyes, love! Don’t you die on me,” he said. “Don’t you fucking die on me again, Buffy Summers.”

“I can rest now,” I told him. “I’m so glad that you’re here. I really wanted to rest.”

“Buff-” he began, but it was too late. I couldn’t hear him anymore.

****

“Buffy?” I opened my eyes, and it was hard work, because they felt so heavy. Giles was looking down at me, his face haggard.

“You look tired.” My voice sounded weak and scratchy, not like my voice at all.

“We’ve been up all night waiting for you to regain consciousness,” he explained. “You had surgery on your leg, and they put you under for it.”

“Why did I have to have surgery?” I asked. “I’m all superpowery and stuff.”

“You had a compound fracture of the femur,” said Giles. “You lost a great deal of blood.”

“Oh,” I closed my eyes. “That sucks.”

“Indeed,” he said.

When I woke up again, it was dark outside. Dawn sat next to me, her head bent forwards. She was making another lanyard. This one was red and black. “SPI”, it read.

“He’ll really like that,” I said. “Anything you gave him, he’d like.”

She looked up at me with a smile. “Hey, Buffy.” She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I’m really glad that you’re awake.”

“I feel a lot better now,” I told her. “They must have me on some big drugs.”

She nodded. “I think- morphine?”

“Wow,” I said, impressed. “Very big drugs.” I tried to shift, and realized I really couldn’t. A pulley, keeping it immobilized, held up my leg. “Oh, I hate this. When can I go home?”

“Tomorrow night,” she said. “But you’re going to have to take it really, really easy.”

“I have to work, and slay, and-" I stopped. “How the hell am I going to do any of that?”

“You won’t,” Dawn explained. “We’re getting you some help.”

“I need to get paid,” I said. “We have bills-"

“Giles spoke to Principal Wood,” Dawnie said. “You’ll be on leave with pay. It’ll be fine.”

“And the slaying?” I asked. “Who’s going to be doing that?”

Xander walked in, carrying a big bouquet of Mylar balloons. “Yay! It’s Xander!” Dawn said gaily. She got up and gave him a big hug.

He smiled, the wide grin lighting up his face. “That’s the kind of greeting that I like.”

She picked up her backpack, tucking in the lanyard she was working on. “I have school tomorrow, so I’m heading home.”

“Wait until Xander can drop you off,” I protested.

“Spike’s going to take me,” she explained, waving as she left. “See you.”

Xander sat down, handing me an open box of chocolate covered cherries. “For you."

“They’re open.”

“I took them for a little test drive,” he explained with a smile.

“I don’t like them that much,” I protested.

“Really?” He looked at the box. “I thought they were your favorite.”

“Anya,” I corrected. “I’m the one that likes the chocolate ones with the chewy stuff in them.”

“Oh, yeah,” he said, remembering. "Nougats."

“But these are a nice change of pace,” I said. I took one out of the box and popped it in my mouth. “Mmm, yum.” Yuck. I chewed it quickly and then swallowed. “So what’s with the change of heart with Spike?”

Xander looked at me oddly. “Huh?”

“Dawn, all wearing her ‘We Like Spike’ button. Last time I tuned in, she wanted Spike flambé.”

“He saved your life, Buffy,” Xander said seriously.

“He did?”

He looked at me, his brown eyes concerned. “Don’t you remember?”

I thought about it. Running, running, falling, fumbling for the phone. “No, I don’t.”

“Well, he saved you,” Xander explained. “He ran here with you, and thank God he did, because you lost a huge amount of blood and the doctors said-" He broke off, looking sick. “It was bad, Buffy.”

“How did he find me?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask him.”

****

“I hate these things,” I complained, struggling to get out of the car. I fumbled with the crutches, trying to figure it out.

Xander stood in front of me, his hands extended. “Let me help, Buffy.”

“I don’t want help,” I said, gritting my teeth.

“Buffy, you’re going to have to let us help you,” he said.

“I’m stronger than all of you put together,” I reminded him.

“Don’t be a bint,” said a quiet voice. Spike reached in the car and pulled me out. “Grab your crutches.”

“Put me down.”

“Grab the bloody crutches, Slayer,” he said. He glared down at me, his jaw set.

“Put. Me. Down.” He dropped me, and I landed on my bad leg. Big, serious pain flared in my thigh. “Ow!”

He picked me up again. “Take two, pet. Pick up the motherfucking crutches, alright?”

I picked them up, and he carried me across the lawn. He smelled of Polo, and Irish Spring, and he wore a white oxford shirt and chino pants. His hair was slicked back, and I noticed that a small silver stud gleamed in each earlobe. “Why did you pierce your ears?” He ignored me, and climbed up the stairs, pushing open the front door. “You look totally gay.”

Willow turned to look at me, screwdriver in hand. “Thanks,” she said with a grin.

“Not you,” I said.

“You’re really, really early,” Willow said to Spike. “You aren’t supposed to be here for another hour.”

“Miss Thing here kicked up a fuss,” he said. “They gladly threw her out of the hospital.” He set me down, holding me up as I braced myself with the crutches.

“That’s not entirely true,” I said. “I very nicely asked-”

“How did you become broken?” asked a cheerful voice. A really, really familiar voice. I swiveled to see the Bot standing in the doorway of the dining room. “You should ask Willow to repair you. She has very gentle hands.”

“Buffy-” Willow began.

I swiveled and stared at Spike. “How could you?”

“Me?” he asked, staring at the Bot.

I couldn’t recall ever being so angry in my life. Not ever. “You asshole!” I picked up my crutch and hit him with it. It hurt like hell, but I just didn't care.

He looked at me with surprise. “Buffy!“

“Willow fixed your fuckbot for you?” I yelled. “How could you?”

“It wasn’t me,” he protested.

“Bullshit!” I hit him again. Willow grabbed at my arm, trying to take away the crutch.

“Buffy, stop!” Dawn ran downstairs, standing in front of Spike. “Stop it.”

“You don’t understand!” I said.

“No, you don’t understand,” Dawn explained. “She’s going to patrol for you, so that you can rest. That’s why Willow fixed her, as a favor to you.”

“Spike didn’t know about it,” Willow said. “I knew he’d be really upset. I was going to break it to him gently, but you guys came early.”

All of the anger drained out of me in one moment. “Oh.”

“The Bot patrolled for you all summer,” Willow explained. “It was the best option we could think of, to have her fill in while you recuperate.”

“We went back patroling in teams,” Dawn said excitedly. “I’m in Tara’s place with Spike and Giles on Team B.”

Spike wasn’t standing behind her anymore. In typical Spike fashion, he had slipped out, unnoticed. “I need to go apologize to Spike.” I set down my crutch and leaned on it.

“You really should,” Dawn said. “I can’t believe that you’d just start hitting him like that. How could you?”

Because it was what I’d always done. “I’m really tired,” I said, and I let them help me upstairs.

*****

The voices woke me up. I looked at the clock. 3:30 AM. Someone was arguing right outside my window.

“Why don’t you love me anymore?”

“Keep your voice down,” Spike hissed. I carefully slid to the edge of the bed and got up on my crutches.

“Why don’t you love me any more?” I hobbled over to the window and pulled aside the drapes. Spike and the Bot stood on the front lawn, under the tree.

“Go to Willow, and tell her to refresh your programming again.” He said, trying to step around her.

She sidestepped in front of him. “You can’t leave me,” said the Bot. “I love you.”

“You don’t love me,” Spike said, exasperated.

“I do,” the Bot insisted. She grabbed his wrist, looking at him beseechingly. “I love you with all my heart.”

“You don’t have a heart,” he said. “You’re a thing. You can’t love.” He tried to jerk away from her, but she held fast.

“But I do!” she said insistently. “You’re all I think about, all I dream about, all I want in the whole wide world.”

Willow ran across the lawn. “I’m sorry, Spike. I shut her down for the night. I don’t know what happened.”

“Just get her off of me,” he snapped. “You don’t know how much I wanted to knock her head off.”

“Override,” Willow said. The Bot dropped her hands, staring into space. “I’m so sorry, really, Spike.”

He turned and ran. I watched him run up Revello Drive, moving faster than any human being ever could.

“Engage,” Willow said.

The bot turned back on and looked at Willow. “He doesn’t love me any more,” she said sadly.

Willow looked at the robot sympathetically. “Sometimes- sometimes love just doesn’t last.”

“But true love should last forever and ever,” The Bot said fervently. “If you really love someone, it never stops, no matter what.”

Willow smiled sadly. “You’re absolutely right.” She put her arm around her shoulder and steered her into the house. “Now, let’s tweak your programming a little bit. It’ll be better for everyone.”

God, what a freak show. I sat down on my bed and set the crutches down. The Bot was so pathetic. How could he ever imagine that I would act that way? I plumped up my pillow and lay down. The pain in her face, the desperation of her voice. “I love you with all my heart.”

I closed my eyes and tried to sleep. My body was throbbing with pain, even with the medication. “You’re a thing. You can’t love.” Odd to hear it coming from his mouth instead of my own.

I’d been wrong, though. He could love. At least, he had loved me. I was pretty sure that he didn’t, not any more. He looked at me now the way he did the Bot- wary.

I shifted my pillow, trying to become more comfortable. How could he have imagined that I’d be like the Bot when I was in love? So demanding and psychotic and driven, as if love was the only thing in the world that mattered. As if I’d be like him.

****

Someone knocked on my door. I opened my eyes and yawned. “Come in.”

Dawn came in, carrying a tray laden with a carnation in a vase, cereal, and seriously burnt toast. “Good morning!”

“You made me breakfast,” I said. “Thank you!”

“I’m leaving now for school,” she explained. She set down the tray on my bed and pulled a small plastic appliance from her pocket. “This is an intercom. Spike has the other one down in the kitchen. If you need anything, just press the button and talk into it. She demonstrated. “Testing 123.”

“Very creative,” Spike’s voice replied.

“Why is Spike here exactly?” I asked.

“He’s the only one who doesn’t have something to do during the day,” Dawn elaborated.

“I guess better him than the Bot,” I grumbled. “Not that I imagine he has a great bedside manner.”

“Call my cell phone if something happens and you need me,” Dawn said. “I can come right home from school and take care of you.”

“Nice try,” I said. “But you’re really going to stay in school. This isn’t an excuse to ditch.”

She pouted. “It’s a really good excuse.”

“Have a nice day,” I told her. “Good luck on your history test.”

“Bye,” she said, leaning over to kiss my cheek.

****

Being in bed was really boring. I ate my breakfast, painted my fingernails, and leafed through Vogue. After sighing over clothes I would be able to afford exactly never, I opened Cosmo. “Is he the one?” blared a banner across one of their quizzes.

Well, apparently not. I decided to do it anyway.

“ Question 1: Do you share secrets with him that you don’t share with your best friends?”

“I was in heaven.” Spike stared at me as the wind kicked up in the alley behind the Magic Box. I picked up a pen and starred the box next to “All the time.”

Question 2: “When you are having financial problems of conflicts with family, is he caring and supportive?”

Spike leaned over the counter of the Doublemeat, his eyes wide. “I can get money. Walk with me now.”

Question 3: “Does your guy escort you to weddings and family gatherings?”

I never gave him a chance to. I thought of the winner he’d brought to Xander’s wedding. What a gum snapping skank. Leave it to Spike, he who had chose Harmony freely, to pick another rocket scientist.

Question 4: “In bed, how interested is he in learning about your needs?”

Lying in the rubble of the basement, looking down at him, breathless from our fall. “Can you bite me?”

He looked at me, still stunned. “Bite you or feed?”

“Just bite.”

He pulled the jacket from my arms and stripped off my blouse, all the time staring at me as if I was something precious, an icon that he adored. Every movement shifted us both, his cock growing ever harder as I grew more and more slick.

Question 5: Since you've gotten to know him, has he increasingly opened up about more personal things?

“She was sleeping with him, you know,” he said. “When I was in the wheelchair.”

“I had no idea,” I said. The idea disgusted me. Drusilla and Angel, together in bed.

“Not Angel,” he said, looking serious. “Angelus.”

“I know the difference,” I said. “I don’t need you to explain to me who Angel is.”

“You have no idea who he is,” Spike said. “Not a glimmer of a drop of a clue of what you were dealing with.”

“You knew Angelus, not Angel,” I reminded him. “Don’t pretend that you know anything about the man I loved.”

“Not a man,” he said. “And I hate to break your bubble, high and mighty, but I knew them both, quite well.” He looked at me, his gaze devoid of warmth. “Much, much better, than he would ever want you to know.”

Question 6: What kind of embarrassing, blackmail-worthy information do you know about your guy?

He looked at me seriously, and I burst out laughing. “I’m not joking,” he said.

I calmed down, still smiling. “Tell me the truth.”

“I was studying to join the clergy, but I really wanted to be a poet.”

I lost it again, the laughter bubbling up from me uncontrollably.

“I’m serious!” he said, looking mightily irritated.

Question 7: After a sweat-soaked sack session, what's been his most emotional statement?

We lay together atop his sarcophagus, our clothes scattered everywhere. He kissed my shoulder and ran his hand through my hair.

“I’ve never loved anyone the way that I love you,” he said, smiling at me. I opened my mouth, and he gently placed a finger to my lips. “Don’t tell me how much you don’t love me. Don’t ruin it. You asked me to tell you that I love you. I know what it means, petal. It means that this, here, now. This is the beginning of us.”

He cuddled me close on his chest, and I closed my eyes. He felt so good, so strong.

“I cannot exist without you. I am forgetful of every thing but seeing you again. My Life seems to stop there; I see no further. You have absorbed me.”

I opened my eyes and looked up at him. His eyes bored into mine, and I could see it, burning inside. The love.

“Make love to me,” I asked. “Tell me all the things that you feel about me.”

He moved over me, his eyes a clear, cornflower blue. “You are my soul, my life, my existence. Without you, I am nothing.”

The quiz ended, and I totaled up my score. I flipped to the next page to read my result. “You have found your soul mate,” it proclaimed, in large pink script. “Sweetheart, they don’t get any better than this. Lacking intimacy and trust issues, he’s revealing who he really is- and he cares who you really are. This man is a lifetime keeper.”

He is your soul mate. Complete with a brand spanking new soul that he got just for you. I felt a rush of anxiety and confusion. He is your soul mate. Yeah, it was just a stupid quiz. But-

There was a knock at the door. “Buffy?”

I let the magazine drop behind the bed. “Come on in, Spike.”

“That’s okay. Just making sure you hadn’t knocked yourself unconscious or something.”

“I’m fine. Come in and keep me company.”

Spike opened the door and came in, standing barely over the threshold. He was wearing chino pants and a blue rugby shirt, brown oxfords on his feet. “Why are you dressed all preppy? You looked like that last night, too.”

“Dress code,” he said simply. “Work.”

“You have a job?”

“Half the rent on the apartment.”

“Xander shouldn’t make you pay half,” I argued. “You’re living in the closet!” He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. “What kind of a job did you get?”

“I’m a host.”

“A host of what?” I asked.

“Italian restaurant. Hand out menus, show people to their table, take reservations.”

“Like a real person,” I said. He flinched and turned away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

“Yes you did,” he said. “Don’t bother pretending.”

“I know you’re a real person,” I argued. “You have a soul, you’re real.”

“Is that the criteria?” he asked bitterly. “Because all this time, several human lifetimes worth, in fact, I thought I was real.”

“Stop twisting things around,” I told him.

“You stop twisting things around to please yourself, Slayer,” he said.

“I’m acknowledging you’re real," I said. “You, Spike, have a soul. You are a real person. There. Is that good enough for you?”

“Not really, no,” he said.

“Well, what the hell do you want?” I asked. “I got you a place to live, got you out of the evil brain sucking basement. What else do you want from me? My undying love and affection?”

He wanted to hit me. I could see it in his face, read it in his eyes, watch his fingers opening and closing, as if he wanted to squeeze the life right out of my body. “Right now, Slayer, that’s the last thing I want from you.”


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

You don't know if it's fear or desire  
Danger the drug that takes you higher  
Head in heaven, fingers in the mire  
Her heart is racing, you can't keep up  
The night is bleeding like a cut  
Between the horses of love and lust  
We are trampled underfoot

-U2, "So Cruel"

The teddy bear was cut into five hundred jagged little bits. Picking up the puzzle box again, I looked at it, trying to figure out where the handful of light blue pieces belonged. There wasn’t any blue in the picture anywhere. I knocked over the glass I had propped against my leg and cold water poured across my thigh.

"Help!" I yelled, pressing down the intercom button.

Rapid-fire steps thudded up the stairs, and Spike burst in, looking ready to kick some ass. "What’s the matter?" he asked, his eyes scanning the room for a threat.

"I spilled water," I explained. "It’s cold as hell and it soaked my bandage." God, it was freezing, seeping across my lap and down my legs.

Hell for leather Spike switched gears before my eyes. He became smaller somehow, the fire and sparks filtering away into calm and controlled. "Not to worry. We’ll get you tidied up."

He took away the tray, pushed the covers aside and helped me up. I held on to the headboard as he stripped off the wet sheets and blankets. I’d bled through the bandage and the water had spread a pool of scarlet across the snowy white cotton of my gown. "Good times for you," I said. "Lots of tasty Slayer blood being spilled."

Spike looked at me with disgust. "You bleeding to death really doesn’t get my motor humming. No matter what you may think."

"I was just kidding." Sort of.

He took a clean set of sheets out of the closet and made up the bed again, then pulled a clean nightgown out of the drawer. "How do you know where all of my stuff is?"

"Snooped around this house quite a bit, once upon a time," he said. I remembered the shrine he’d made to me in his crypt, with my stakes and clothes. God, that had been twisted.

He handed me the nightgown and slowly I turned around. I couldn’t get it on and get the other one off while I was holding on to my bed frame.

"I need you to hold on to me so I won’t fall," I said.

"Where do you want me to hold you?" he asked, his voice neutral.

"Put your hands on my waist." He moved his hands underneath my nightgown, his familiar fingers sliding along my body.

I stood on the catwalk of the Bronze, apart. I could see the world around me, watch my friends having fun, but it didn’t touch me. Nothing did anymore- except for him.

As if summoned by my thoughts, he appeared. "What would they think of you, if they found out? All the things you'd done?" He ran his hand over my shoulder and down my arm, a sensuous caress. I felt myself grow damp, my nipples hard. My body betrayed me, over and over, for a monster. "If they knew, who you really were."

He ran his hand across the front of my skirt and rubbed his thumb across my clit through the lace. A spark of pleasure flared through me. "Don't."

"Stop me." He ran his hand down my thigh, and pulled up my skirt, the satin of my slip sliding across my skin.

I pulled the dirty gown off and tossed it aside. I was totally naked, except for the bandage that covered my thigh. Spike shifted his hands, holding me in place with the merest touch of his fingertips.

Lifting the nightshirt over my head, I pulled it on. As soon as the clean flannel fell over his hands he slowly turned me to face him. He stared in my eyes as he leaned me back on the bed. "Am I hurting you?" he asked. "Am I being gentle enough?"

"I feel fine," I replied. He looked at me with care and concern, his eyes a soft blue. I’d rarely looked him in the eyes when we were this close together. A flood of warmth swept over me, a feeling of attraction and homecoming. I’d missed being intimate like this.

He turned away to fetch the basket that Giles had made up, filled with thick gauze pads, peroxide, rolls of bandages and first aid tape. He set it down next to my bed and looked at me. "I don’t think that I can do this," he said.

"How many times have you fixed me up after a fight?" I asked. "This is no different. Yes, it will hurt. But I can take it. I’m a Slayer."

He didn’t look so sure. "Take some more pain medication and then I’ll do it."

"If I wait that long, the bandage will dry and my stitches will be stuck to it," I told him. "This will hurt, but it will hurt a lot less than that."

He just stared at me, blank. What the hell was his problem? "I need you to do this for me," I told him. "No one else is around to do it."

"I don’t want to hurt you," he said. "After what happened, I promised myself. I would never hurt you again, never."

Slipping along the tile floor, his hand grabbed my thigh roughly, pulling my legs apart. His eyes were wild and frantic as he ripped open my robe. "This is nothing like that, Spike," I said. "This is taking care of me, helping me to heal and not hurt." I pulled up my nightshirt, baring the wet, stained bandage. "Please. I need you."

He leaned over and slid one hand under my thigh. With the other, he unclipped the metal clasp that fastened the bandage and unwound it. I hissed at his touch, the gentle pressure more than I could bear.

In one swift motion, he ripped off the white tape that held the gauze. I screamed as agonizing pain enveloped my thigh. "Oh," I gasped, "oh Spike." The tears rolled down my face as I sobbed. I twisted the sheets between my fingers into the mattress. I didn’t even recognize the noises that I was making; they sounded like a wounded animal. He pulled away the gauze pad that covered the stitches, and my back arched.

"Hold on, Slayer, hold on, hold on," he said, as he wiped the stitches with peroxide.

"Make it stop," I said. "Stop, please, stop."

He ripped open a sterile pad and pressed it on the wound, quickly winding the gauze over it. The pain started to lessen as the pressure increased, and by the time he was pinning the Ace bandage into place, the pain was bearable again. "Thank you," I said. I looked up and he was turned away from me. "Spike?"

"When I close my eyes, I’m back there in it," he said. "Seeing your tears, feeling you pummel my flesh, hearing you scream as you fight to get away from me." He turned and looked at me, and his face was bone white. For the first time, he truly looked dead to me. "How did you make it stop? How did you stop seeing it in your head?"

He was stuck in that hellish moment, tormenting himself with it. "I forgave you," I said softly. "I forgave you because I know you never meant to hurt me."

"I thought you loved me," he said. "I was so wrong." He wrung his hands, rocking back and forth.

"Stop beating yourself up over this, please." It was so hard to see him this way, and it made me feel horribly guilty. For love of me, he had been broken. "It was a terrible thing that happened to both of us. It could never happen again. Just let it go."

"It’s not that simple," he said.

"Just make it that simple," I said, exasperated. "I’m over it, Spike. Over it. If I’m over it, you should be too."

Without another word, he gave me back my bed tray and puzzle and left. No matter how many times I hit the intercom that afternoon, he wouldn’t come back.

I was really worried. Obviously, getting out of the basement wasn’t going to be the cure all for what was wrong with him. I wanted to talk to someone, get some advice on how to help him get through this. But what could I say? "I need help convincing my attempted rapist that he needs to forgive himself?"

With a sigh, I started again on the puzzle. There had to be a place for the blue pieces, somewhere. I’d figure it out eventually.

*******

Spike was the perfect nursemaid. He brought food, fetched drinks, and dispensed pills. But he wouldn’t talk beyond monosyllables.

After three days of dealing with Mr. Mute, I’d had it. I never would have imagined missing his yammering about Passions, the last fight he was in, his game of cards with his demon buddies. But I hated his silence, the distant and detached way he moved around my room. "Why are you mad at me?" I asked.

"I’m not," he said. He slipped a clean case on my pillow and I leaned forward as he slid it underneath my head.

"Why won’t you talk to me then?"

"Nothing to say," he replied. He shook pills out into his palm and placed them in my hand.

It was eerie. Chatterbox "pay attention to me" Spike completely blowing me off. "Well, you could be more entertaining." I swallowed the pills with a mouthful of juice.

He picked up a spoon, a cereal bowl and a banana and juggled them with one hand. He was amazingly good; he did a few more circuits, throwing in a granola bar and a cup of yogurt before catching each object and putting it back on my tray. Then he bowed. "I can stand on my head as well. And balance a ball on my nose. Would that please you, Slayer?"

"Very funny, smart ass."

He made a strangled noise of frustration and clenched his fists. "What the hell do you want from me, Buffy?"

"I want to be your friend. I want you to sit and talk with me, like we used to."

He crossed his arms. "We’re not friends. We’ll never be friends," he said, enunciating each syllable as if talking to a pet or a small child.

"Why not?" I said. "You’ve got a soul-"

He walked out, slamming the door. A framed picture on my wall fell to the floor with a bang.

What the hell was his problem? I didn’t get it.

******

The next day, Spike brought me a potpie and some apple juice for lunch. He covered my lap with a napkin and set down the tray, turning to leave again.

"Why did you save my life?" I asked.

He looked at me, startled. "What?"

"Why did you bring me to the hospital when the demon broke my leg? Why didn’t you just leave me there to bleed to death?"

He raised his eyebrows. "What the hell kind of idiot question is that, Slayer?"

"You don’t want to be my friend, you act like you hate me," I said. "Obviously you don’t care if I’m alive or dead."

He walked over to my bed and looked down at me for a long moment. "I hope that you live a long and happy life," he said softly. His thumb ran over the back of my hand, a gentle, fleeting touch.

"A long and happy life in which you won’t condescend to speak with me. I don’t understand why you’re acting this way."

"I’m sorry if I’m hurting your feelings," he said. "But it’s better to just have it be what it is. I’m here to take care of you, that’s all. You have your Scoobies and your Watcher and your sis, and I’m just the muscle. Same as always." He turned away and moved to the dresser, closing the tops and tightening the lids of the toiletries that were placed on the top of it.

"But I don’t want that," I protested. "I want you to talk to me. I want to know where you went, how you got the soul, how you wound up in the basement, how you knew where to find me when I was hurt." And when, exactly, you stopped loving me.

"I’m not interested in sharing," he said, lining all my stuffed animals in a perfect row on their shelf.

"What can I do to make you stop being mad at me?" I said. He walked over to my nightstand, stacking up books and magazines and tossing away tissues. I closed my hand over his, and he looked up at me with surprise. "How can I make things right between us?"

He smiled, a thin glimmer of his real one. "You could do what you’re supposed to do, Slayer, and stake me."

"You don’t really want that," I said. Did he?

He didn’t answer, just shook off my hold and kept straightening up my room. My fingers itched to throw something at him, do something to make him see me.

******

Spike brought me two chocolate croissants and a tall glass of milk for breakfast the next day. "I can’t eat these," I protested.

"Why not?" he asked, setting down the tray in front of me.

Duh. "Because they have a gazillion grams of fat, each."

"You’re a scrawny little stick girl, Slayer." He held up my wrist like he was sizing me up as a snack, and I was failing the taste test. "You haven’t been eating anything."

"I’m just not hungry." My appetite hadn’t been that great to begin with, for the last couple of years.

"Eat it," he commanded, hands on his hips.

He was acting bossy, but he was standing close to me, talking to me. "I’ll have a piece of one, a little piece, but that’s it."

"You’ll eat it all," he said sternly.

"Or what? You’ll spank me?"

He smirked. There he was- the old Spike. My Spike. "Just eat the nice pastries, bane."

"What’s a bane?" I asked.

"Bane of my sodding existence, that’s what you are."

"So it’s not a compliment, then?"

He laughed. "No, not a compliment."

"I thought it was a new one. Rather than love or pet or Goldilocks or one of your other little gems."

"Those aren’t compliments, exactly. More like terms of affection."

"And you don’t call me any of them any more." And there’s no affection in sight, either.

He stood up and turned to leave. "Just eat your food."

"I’ll make a deal with you," I offered. "If I eat everything on the tray, you have to tell me about what happened to you while you were gone."

Amazingly, he nodded. "You win," he said. "I’ll take that bet."

Spike sat next to me on the bed and watched me eat. I felt incredibly awkward with him staring at me, but I didn’t want to send him into another insano moment by asking him to stop. The croissants were so decadent, flaky and buttery and chocolaty. "God, this is good."

"Knew you’d like it," he said, looking pleased.

"Spikey knows best," I said. "There’s a scary concept." I licked my fingers, feeling full and mellow. "Wow, that was good."

"You need to take care of yourself. Living off bagged salad, getting no sleep, no wonder you’re slipping a bit with the Slaying."

"I’m not slipping," I said defensively. "It was an accident."

"No, you had two accidents in one day," he pointed out. "That’s not like you. The Bot is doing fine with the Slaying. Take the time to relax and rest, because you need a break."

"I don’t have time for a vacation," I reminded him.

"Your friends and I have the patrols covered," he said. "Just be Buffy." He frowned. "Drink your milk. You need calcium to mend that leg."

I finished the glass of milk and rested back on the pillows, smiling. "I win the bet, Mr. I Want To Make Buffy Big and Fat." I patted the pillow next to me. "Now you have to stay and talk to me."

"No I don’t," he said, as he stood up.

"We had a deal, " I said. "I ate everything on the tray!"

Spike bent down, picked up the empty glass and plate, and waved them at me. With a smirk, he lifted the tray and left the room. "That’s cheating!" I called after him.

******

Spike sat, cross-legged, at the foot of my bed. He held my foot on his lap as he stuffed cotton balls between my toes.

"I want you to tell me what happened to you," I said.

"You promised that if I did this, you’d stop nagging me," he replied, as he shook a bottle of Copacabana Red polish.

"I’m not nagging. I’m expressing an interest in you as a person," I explained as he deftly painted my pinky nail.

"No wonder I was confused." He blew on my toe to dry the polish, and it made me giggle. He looked up, surprised. "Never heard that noise before."

"Ticklish feet."

"Really now?" He looked down at my feet, apparently thinking evil thoughts. "Slayer’s got an Achilles heel. Literally." He leaned forward and blew, making me giggle again. "God, that’s the cutest sound I’ve ever heard."

"I’m not cute," I argued.

"Big bad Slayer," he teased. "Putty in my hands, now."

It was true; he’d turned me into a little pool of Buffy goo between his soft hands on my feet and the tickling. I had to save face. "I bet I could break your nose with one kick. Want to find out?"

"You’d smear the polish," he commented as he painted my next toenail vivid crimson.

"So, we were talking about the whole ensouling process. Was it Gypsies?" Like Angel.

"You have a seriously one track mind."

"You never used to complain about that." Up against the wall. On the floor. Over a tombstone…

"Well, at that time it was working to my advantage." He finished my left foot and began to work on my right.

"Tell me about the soul, Spike." How could he not understand that I needed to hear about it?

"Got a soul, went a little nuts, came back to Sunnydale, became a driveling Looney Tune," he said in blasé voice.

I gritted my teeth, the urge to smack him one hard to resist. "You want to elaborate on any of that?"

"No."

He had to be the most annoying person on the planet. "Why won’t you tell me?"

"Because as your savagely dumped ex as well as the despicable bastard that tried to rape you, you shouldn’t care." He gingerly wiped away excess polish from my skin, his brow furrowing in concentration.

"But I do," I said. "I care, a lot."

"Sounds like a personal problem. Better work on that." He finished off my right foot with a flourish.

"Why are you such a total asshole? You make me want to beat the crap out of you, Spike."

"Another good reason not to open up to you, don’t you think?" He screwed the cap on the bottle of polish and left.

***********

The next day, he brought in a wooden stand and set it up in front of my dresser. "What’s that for?" I asked.

"Be patient," he said, and then left the room. He returned carrying a television. He set it up, plugged it in, and left again. He came back with a DVD player and another appliance that looked similar. He fiddled with cords and wires, and then handed me a keyboard, a manual, and a remote.

"Five movies in the DVD carousel, Web TV so you can surf the Internet and instant message." He flicked a button and Jerry Springer came on. "And here’s a real freak show for you."

"I don’t like computers and I don’t watch cheesy daytime TV."

"We’ll see." He left, leaving the door open.

"You’re not the baby’s momma, Linda!" screamed a gigantic woman, sporting truly frightening feathered hair. "You got no right to criticize me!"

"You got no right to call yourself a momma," countered an equally massive redhaired woman who sat on the other side of the stage. "You’re nothing but a trailer park slut. You don’t even know who the daddy is!"

The audience oooed.

"I know who the daddy is!" the blonde screamed. "Your husband, that’s who!"

Oooh. I turned up the volume as the redhead picked up a chair and the bouncers rushed the stage. I heard a chime and a message window popped up. "Accept a message from WillowWicca?"

I pressed Enter on the keyboard. "You’ve got to turn on Springer!" read the message.

"I’m watching it now," I typed. "Where are you?"

"Student Lounge. Killing time before chem lab."

"Was this your bright idea?" I asked. "Dragging me kicking and screaming into bed potatodom?"

"Spike’s," she replied. "He thought it would keep you out of trouble."

"I think he got it so he could ignore me. He doesn’t seem to want to hang with me."

"Why is that a problem?" typed Willow. "You don’t want to encourage him."

"I don’t think he loves me any more. He’s non talky."

"That’s good. Better that he’s accepted it and moved on. You should be happy."

But I wasn’t. I missed him even more than when he was gone. It was ten times worse, knowing that he was here and avoiding me.

*****

I hit the intercom. "Spike?"

"Yes?"

"I’m bored."

"Sorry to hear that."

"Come keep me company."

"No."

"I’m lonely." God, I sounded pathetic.

"I’ll send the Bot up. That’ll make you nostalgic for the silence."

How could I get him up here? I thought of a topic that could generally keep him going for hours, if I didn’t distract him. "Passions is on. I want you to explain to me who all these people are and what they’re doing."

"That is a flagrant bribe, Slayer. You’d sooner swallow a sword than watch my soap opera."

"Well, grab a rapier and hoof it on up here, because I really want to see Passions." And you.

"When hell freezes over." He paused. "It’s snowing again outside; just our luck that hell may actually be freezing over."

I turned on the show. The witch lady was talking about how much she missed Timmy. "What happened to Timmy?"

He sighed. "I’ll be right up."

"Bring me a Diet Coke and some Doritos."

"You need to eat good food, not crap."

The guy was obsessed with nutrition. He was nearing Riley levels of boring lectures about my food intake. "The Doritos are cheese flavored. That counts as calcium, right?"

He came into the room, carrying a tray laden with milk, beer, Doritos, and some HoHos. Woo hoo! I nearly applauded. I tossed him a pillow. "Get comfy. You’re not leaving until I understand what the hell is going on with this show."

He settled back against the wall, his long legs dangling over the side of the bed. "This is going to take a while."

Three hours later, he’d resorted to drawing a family tree on some poster board left over from Dawn’s science fair project to explain the population of Harmony.

Dawn came in. "Hey! I got an A on my paper on Prohibition."

"Well done," Spike said approvingly.

Dawn turned to me. "Can I have dinner with Spike?"

"What?" What with who?

"Spike said if I got an A on this paper, then I could ask you if I could go with him to his restaurant," Dawn explained.

Spike laughed. "Not my restaurant, sleigh bell. I’m a total peon." He turned to me. "However, I am a peon who can score a free meal, so I thought I’d take Dawn for some spaghetti Bolognese before patrol tonight."

"Please, Buffy?" Dawn pleaded.

"If you do your homework now," I responded.

"Cool," she said happily. "It’s a date then." She flounced out of the room, humming happily.

Spike and I exchanged a look. "I’m sure it’s just a figure of speech," I said.

He raised his eyebrows. "One can only hope."

"How’s she doing out on patrol?" I asked. "She kind of gives me the shruggy no big deal thing, so I figured maybe she was having problems." He looked away. "It’s hard when you’re just starting out," I explained. "It takes time to get really good."

"She did a two for one last night, Buffy," he said. "Two vamps, one stake." He smiled. "It was a sight to see, truly."

"Really?" Wow.

"I should get going now," he said. "See you in the morning." He picked up the tray and tossed all the empty cans and wrappers on it, and left the room.

Dawn, completely kicking vamp ass. Patrolling with Spike. Having dinner with him.

I was totally jealous of my baby sister.

******

I heard everyone come in from patrol, laughing, talking loud, weapons clanking and the trunk slamming shut downstairs. I heard thumping and doors closing.

The Bot and Willow walked upstairs. "Who taught you that word?" Willow said angrily.

"Spike said it-"

"Don’t say it," Willow said. "It’s not a nice word."

"But Spike said it," the Bot protested.

"You can’t be a good role model for Dawn if you use inappropriate language," Willow admonished.

"If I can’t call them motherfucking nimrods, then what can I call them?" the Bot said anxiously.

"Just call them- bad monsters," Willow said, opening the door to her room.

"Die, you bad monsters!" the Bot said loudly.

"Come sit and I’ll adjust your programming," Willow said, and her door closed.

Poor Willow. I really needed to do something nice for her, to thank her for putting up with the bot. I turned on the Web TV and searched on Google. "Wicca gifts," I typed in.

I was scrolling through an assortment of incense holders, goddess statues and beeswax candles when the intercom popped on.. "-because I don’t want to discuss it, Giles," Spike said.

"Spike, what has happened to you is one of the most pivotal, tremendous events that has ever occurred. You were rewarded with a soul, and you must explain what you did to earn it."

"Found it in a box of Cracker Jack. Really surprised me, I was actually rooting for the temporary tattoos."

"Why do you insist on being so flip?" Giles asked angrily. "How are we supposed to help you through this transition if you refuse to let us be part of the process?"

"There is no process, Watcher. No soul, soul. Aside from the mind splitting headaches and the constant, terrifying visions, not much has changed."

"We need to hear about what you went through, and the way you are feeling now," Giles said. "The soul must have significantly altered your world view, your sense of self. We must determine what your purpose is, the destiny that you have been blessed with."

"The way I feel, there is no blessing in it," he said. "And I don’t fancy splitting my head open so you gits can take a peek. If you really must know-"

The intercom popped off, leaving me in ringing silence. Really must know what? God, this was frustrating.

Dawn came into the room, bearing a Healthy Choice meal on a tray, some cookies and a glass of milk. "How was patrol?" I asked.

She shrugged. "The ice and snow seem to have forced the vamps into panic mode. They’re all holing up in warehouses, and if you find one, you get yourself a dozen vamps."

"Are you sure that you can handle that many vamps at once?" I asked worriedly.

"Spike could probably take them all out by himself," Dawn remarked. "He’s a total animal during a fight." She set down the tray on my bed. "He’s very efficient, but sometimes I worry that he’s enjoying the slaying a tad too much."

"That’s vamps for you," I said. "They do like their daily spot of violence."

"It’s the happiest that he ever seems," she said. "Laughing, smiling." She took a cookie off my tray and took a bite. "Although he was laughing a lot earlier tonight, with Chloe."

"Who is Chloe?" I asked.

"She’s Spike’s friend," she explained. "She ate dinner with us, and said she’s heard a lot about me."

"Spike doesn’t have any friends," I said.

"He has me," Dawn said. "And he has Chloe." She pulled something out of her pocket. It was an origami swan, silver paper intricately folded and tucked into a graceful neck and pointed wings. "She brought me this as a present. Isn’t it pretty?"

Who cared about the stupid paper bird? "What kind of a friend is she?" I asked. "Like a girlfriend?"

She nodded her head. "He didn’t say so, but they seemed kind of vibey, liked they enjoyed being together." She looked at me thoughtfully. "Don’t you think it would be nice for Spike to have a girlfriend? He seems really lonely."

"No."

"No he doesn’t seem lonely, or no he shouldn’t have a girlfriend?" Dawn asked, sipping my milk.

"No, I don’t want him to have a girlfriend," I said.

"Would it make you feel jealous?" Dawn asked.

Yes, and kind of like someone put a concrete block on my chest. "No, not at all," I said lightly. "So I was picking out a present for Willow."

I scrolled through the gallery, and we talked about which things we thought she’d like. But all the time all I was thinking was: it’s really over. He doesn’t love me any more. He’ll never look at me again, the way that he used to.

Early the next morning, I woke up in a panic, my heart racing. I stumbled into the bathroom and splashed my face with water. My image in the mirror showed a reflection as pale as snow.

I loved him. I’d fallen, hard. For Spike.

*******

The next day, Giles brought me my breakfast tray. "Where’s Spike?" I asked.

Giles smiled at me. "He won’t be coming during the days any longer, Buffy. It’s time for you to start moving up and about, using your muscles." He buttered a scone and handed it to me. "There’s quite a surprise for you downstairs."

"What is it?" I asked.

"You’ll see shortly," he said. "Eat your breakfast, take a shower and dress, and carefully come downstairs to the basement. Use your crutches."

Under twenty minutes later, I descended into the basement. It was transformed. Drywall had been put up, creating a main area and closing off the laundry room. It looked just like my training room had at the Magic Box. Giles and a tall black guy I’d never seen before stood waiting. "Giles? What is all this?" I asked, leaning my crutches against the wall.

"Do you like it?" Giles asked, his eyes shining. "Xander provided the construction and I purchased the equipment."

I threw myself into his arms, and he held me in a tight hug. Ah, the arms of Giles. I’d missed them. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Giles said. "I’m so pleased to see you restored, back to your old self."

We broke the embrace, and I turned to the man. "I’m Buffy," I introduced myself.

"I’m Ralph," he said in a deep rumbling voice. "I’m your physical therapist."

"There’s been some kind of mistake. I can’t afford that," I protested.

"It’s taken care of," he said, smiling. "Just focus on your recovery. We’ve got a lot of work to do."

"I’ll be upstairs if you need me," Giles said. "Please be careful not to overtax yourself. You had a titanium rod inserted into your leg; don’t forget that."

"I’ll be careful, " I promised.

Ralph turned to me with a smile. "Let’s get to work."

*****

I was waiting for the guys to get back from patrolling. Another snowstorm had hit, and there were now several feet of snow on the ground.

I was doing leg lifts, weights strapped to my ankles. My left leg burned horribly when I did the reps, and I worked through the pain, knowing that it was an inevitable part of getting back into shape.

A loud crack hit my window. I stood up and saw my sister waving. "You've got to get out here!" she yelled. "We’re going to-"

Suddenly, a large snowball slammed into the side of her face, exploding into a shower of white powder.

She whirled around. "Hey!"

Xander picked up another handful of snow. "You snooze you lose, Summ-" he began, before a snowball decked him from behind.

"You were saying?" Spike said, coming up behind him. My souled, demanding, difficult, moody love.

"You’re dead meat," Xander said, and Spike took off running. Dawn squealed loudly, chasing after them both.

Snowball fight! I pulled on a pair of sneakers and grabbed my jacket from the closet. I walked down the hall, still limping slightly, and carefully made my way down the stairs. The Bot was looking out the window. "I want to play too. I promise not to rust."

I walked outside. The piles of snow glimmered underneath the streetlights, piled up on the curbs in a town where no one had ever needed the streets plowed. I heard the sound of giggling and the swoosh of people running through snow, and went around to the back of the house.

It was war. Giles, Willow and Dawn were pounding Spike and Xander with snowballs. "I want to play too," I called out. "No fair all of you having fun without me."

Spike turned and looked at me. "Bot’s on the loose, Willow," he said.

"She patrolled, she should be allowed to join the fight," Xander said. He picked up a snowball and threw it at me, hitting me in the chest.

"I’m-" I began, and Dawn hit me in the neck with a snowball.

I bent down and made a snowball and hit her in the leg. Soon, I was in the thick of it, beaning Willow in her arm, getting Giles right in the glasses. I lost track of time, and suddenly Giles was walking away, his entire body coated with snow. "I believe that cocoa is in order," he said. "I can no longer feel my fingers. Or my feet. " He looked thoughtful. "Or my face, now that I think of it."

"Cocoa and s'mores!" Dawn called, and everyone ran for the house.

I couldn’t run anywhere, not yet. I shook the snow from my hair and brushed off my legs. Spike walked past me, headed around the side of the house. "Good fight," I said.

"Good fight," he said, without turning around.

"Aren’t you going to stay?" I asked. "Join in the cocoa fun with the rest of them?"

He turned and looked at me. His shoulders were dusted with snow, his skin even paler than usual. Ice chips glittered in his hair, sparkling in the moonlight. "I don’t belong in there any more than you do," he said.

Same old song. "You still think I belong in the shadows with you," I said. "But I really don’t, Spike. I never did."

Something changed in his face, and he was on me in a flash, scooping me into his arms. "Spike!" I yelled, surprised.

Spike looked down at me, his face deadly. "I could kill you."

My heart pounded in my chest as he stalked towards the front of the house. "You’re scaring me."

His face softened, his grip loosening a bit. "I’m sorry. I'm just-" He swallowed hard. "I’m very angry with you."

He walked up the front steps and opened the door, carrying me up the stairs. I heard everyone laughing and talking in the kitchen, and Dawn was singing "Frosty the Snowman."

Spike set me down in my room. "What were you thinking?" he asked. "Going out in leggings, t-shirt, jacket open, no boots?"

"I was fine," I protested, as he took out thick socks, a flannel nightgown and a fleece robe from my dresser and set them on my bed.

"You’re not healed yet," he said. "So you decide to risk injury to your leg by running around in three feet of icy snow?"

"I was just having fun," I protested.

"You could have made yourself lame," he muttered. "Caught a chill. Taken a fall-"

I closed my hand around his and he looked up at me. "I’m fine. I’m sorry I scared you." He looked so lost, afraid and confused. I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him tightly.

He was still for a moment, and then his arms tightened around me. "I couldn’t stand it, something else happening to you," he whispered, burying his face in my hair.

"Nothing’s going to happen to me," I promised. I turned my head, and my lips ran across his.

We exploded. His arms tightened around me and I slipped my hands under his shirt, feeling his back. His tongue was in my mouth, his hands sliding down to cup my ass and we were both on fire, pressed tightly to each other as we kissed passionately.

God, it was so good. Touching him was as good as before but even better, because I knew what I’d be missing if this stopped. I knew every inch of his muscles, every place that made him gasp and cry, everything he wanted.

He pulled away, running his hands through his hair. "I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-" he broke off and turned to leave.

"Don’t go," I said. I reached out and grabbed his arm.

"This was a mistake. It’s better we’re apart," he said. "You’ll come to understand, you will."

"I don’t want to," I said. "I want you. I- miss you." It was so hard to say, to make myself vulnerable to him. "Spike, I think about you every day, and I wonder how you are, what’s going on with you. I hate being shut out, left out in the cold."

"I’m sorry I can’t be what you need," he said.

"You are what I need," I said. "You’re what I want." It was true. I’d missed him horribly, and it just kept getting worse, an ache in my chest that grew sharper each day he stayed away. "Spike, I lo-"

He waved his arms in the air and stepped back. "I’ll be there at your back in a fight," he said, his eyes closed. "I’d gladly die for you. But don’t ask me to try to love you, because I can’t."

In an instant, he was gone.

******

After three weeks of physical therapy, I was ready to slay again.

"We’ll see how you do in a practice session," Giles said cautiously. "I’m not letting you patrol again until I’m confident you can defend yourself."

My body sang with adrenaline. I so wanted to kick somebody’s ass. I tossed Giles a face mask and padding and pulled on a pair of boxing gloves. "Just try to keep up."

Twenty minutes later, Giles was flat on his back, winded and red-faced. "I think that’s enough for the day, Buffy."

"I’m just getting warmed up," I complained.

"I fear I have pulled a muscle," he said, wincing. "And- I really should get back to the school."

Bummer. "Okay," I said. I leaned down and helped him up.

"I’ll come back tomorrow," he promised. "We’ll pick it up where we left off."

He left, and I hopped up on my pommel horse. I wanted to keep going. I needed to keep going.

I walked over to the wall and dialed the phone.

*****

Spike walked downstairs. He was barefoot and in his sweats, and he looked totally amazing. Weeks without seeing him made me focus on all the little details: the slight scruff on his chin, two small dots of jet in his ears, a silver ring on his thumb. He smelled like Polo, and the scent of it made my skin tingle. "You sure you’re up for this?" he asked worriedly. "I can’t believe the Watcher got you up and about already."

"Evil waits for no one," I said. "I miss the slaying, and I want to get back out there."

"If you’re not in top form, you’ll get yourself killed," he said.

"Then you’d better help me get back in the game." I tossed him a quarterstaff.

He made several pathetic jabs at me, which I easily blocked. Looking for some real action, I jabbed at his throat. Then we got into it; anticipating, blocking, cracking the wooden staffs against each other. I felt the nice healthy glow of a good workout, marred by a dull pulsing in my thigh.

I wasn’t paying attention. Spike caught me in the knee with the wooden pole and I cried out, bending over. He dropped his pole and ran over. "Buffy?" he said worriedly. "God, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!" I clipped him in the ankles and he fell down on his back. Quick as a wink, I dropped my quarterstaff and pinned him to the ground, his wrists slamming back into the mat. He looked up at me, his eyes wide. Lust crashed over me in a wave. Too long, too long, since we’d been like this. He lay still beneath me, and I could see the need in his eyes.

I leaned down and bit his neck, in the high spot near his jaw that drove him nuts. "Unnh," he moaned, thrusting upwards. I moved my mouth up to his ear, tracing my tongue around his earlobe and sucking it. The stone earring in his lobe tasted cold and smooth in my mouth.

I let go of his hands, secure that I had him where I wanted him, and smiled down at him. He stared in my eyes for a long moment, and then shoved me away. I tipped off him, landing on my ass. "This is wrong," he announced.

"It’s not wrong," I said. "I care about you. I want to be with you." Wasn’t this what he’d wanted all along?

"How can you want me?" He looked lost and confused again, once more with the wiggins. "I tried to rape you. "

I really, really wished he would stop bringing it up. "What’s in the past doesn’t matter," I said. "It’s over and done. It was a mistake and you’re sorry-"

"You made me lose my mind," he said, his eyes wild. "I lost my mind, Buffy!"

I crawled over to him. "I’m sorry that you went through that, Spike. I wish I could make it go away." I wrapped my arms around his neck and gently kissed him. He was completely still for a moment, and then he rolled on top of me, kissing me hungrily. He moved his mouth to my neck and bit me. "Please," I gasped. "Please, I need you so much."

He pulled off my jeans and panties slowly and slipped his face between my thighs. I shuddered as his tongue pressed hard against my clit. I cupped my hand on the back of his neck. God he was good, he was so perfect at this. He licked gently for a long, long time. I was climbing, climbing, higher and higher. I felt dizzy, and realized that I was holding my breath. I let go, and then I was falling. Sparks of pleasure engulfed my body and I was on fire, burning up with the force of my release.

I opened my eyes, and looked up at the ceiling. I was drenched with sweat, and gasping for air. My heartbeat slowed and I looked down at Spike. His head was resting on my stomach, his eyes fixed on my face.

"More," he said, and slid back between my legs.

"Spike," I gasped, as I began to climb again. "I love you."

He froze and pulled away. "What?"

"I love you. I can love you now," I explained, admitting what I'd been fighting ever since he came back. "This is love, and not just because you’re doing what you’re doing with your tongue. Although I love that too."

"You love me?" He looked stunned, and scared, and hopeful, all at the same time.

"I do," I assure him. "And we can be together now, because you have a soul." Everything was going to be different, this time.

"Like Angel." His voice was heavy, dark and ominous. "Like your beloved, ensouled Angel." He smiled, the dark wicked smirk of the Big Bad. "The first vampire. The inconvenient vampire."

Oh, crap. "You’re getting it all wrong. I don’t love you because you’re like him," I explained. "I love you because you’re you, but only better."

"I’m out of my fucking mind, but that works better for you?" he said incredulously. With a look of disgust, he wiped his hand across his mouth and left me alone.

I wanted to call after him and say something to fix what I’d just done. But I just didn’t have the words.

*****

Spike came back the next day to train with me. My body tightened, craving more of what we’d started the day before.

He looked at me, and his eyes seemed emptier than they ever had been before. The passion that blazed in his eyes, the knowledge of his affect on me, was totally absent.

Spike picked up a quarterstaff and tossed it to me, swinging another with his hand. Predator and prey, just like always. "You’re going down," I challenged.

He smirked. "Thought that was yesterday," he said, and waggled his tongue.

I smacked him in the ribs with the edge of my quarterstaff. "Pervert."

"You weren’t complaining."

I went for his throat, and he blocked my shot. "Never did."

"So I can do something right after all," he said. "Bully for me."

"You can do lots of things right," I said.

"That may be the first nice thing you’ve ever said to me."

"Well, there was the telling you that I lo-"

"Shut up and fight, Slayer." The glacial look in his eyes and the set of his jaw signaled that chatting time was over.

Two hours of serious sweaty combat later he turned to leave. "I’m sorry about yesterday," I said. "I didn’t mean to upset you." Now that we’d stopped, the pain in my leg made itself known. I hadn’t noticed anything during the fight, my concentration fixed exclusively on Spike.

"Forget about it," he said, heading up the stairs.

"I don’t want to forget about it," I said. "I want us to make up."

"Make up?" he said, still walking. "Make up implies there’s some other way we could interact. As memory serves, we have fight mode or fuck mode. That’s it."

"That could change," I said. "If you’re willing to stop acting like an asshole and communicate with me."

He turned and looked at me. "Fight or fuck. Pick one."

"Can we talk afterwards?"

"No."

"Fine. Fuck."

He raised his eyebrows with surprise. "Sunk that low, Slayer? Willing to abase yourself for a quick shag with someone who doesn’t even like you at the moment?"

I knew that it was just a matter of time until he gave in, and I could wait. "Yes."

"That’s pretty pathetic, Slayer. Didn’t think you were the kind of girl who’d take a pity fuck lying down."

"Worked for you, didn’t it?"

He grabbed my wrist and pulled me up the stairs. He threw me in the bathroom, my feet skidding across the floor. "How’s this working for you?" he asked. "Cozy little romantic spot, remind you of all the good times we had."

"I’m not scared of you," I said. "You’re the one that’s scared."

"Is that right? What am I scared of, pet?" He backed me into a corner, as close as he could be to me without touching.

"You’re scared of hurting me," I said, sliding my hands under his sweatshirt. "Don’t be." Swiftly I pulled up his shirt, skimming my thumbs across his nipples. He gasped and I bent my head to his chest, licking each of his nipples in turn. "If you hurt me, I’ll hunt you down and make you pay." I trailed sharp little bites down his stomach, and then licked along the waistband of his pants.

"Buffy," he whispered.

Pulling down his pants, I sucked him into my mouth, slowly and hard. His hands gripped the back of my head, and he was already moaning. Flickering my tongue over the slit in the head of his cock made him mutter something I couldn’t understand. I licked the vein that ran underneath his cock, back and forth, faster and faster, until he began to thrust rhythmically into my mouth. My nails clenched the cheeks of his ass, and I felt him trembling.

He started to chant, sliding fast towards orgasm. "Buffy. Buffy. Buffy."

I pulled away. "Finish with me."

His eyes were glazed, his control sketchy at best. "Fuck me, now."

I opened the door to my room and shoved him, and he stumbled into my bedroom, his pants twisted around his ankles. Shoving him again, he sprawled onto the bed. I pulled off my panties and jeans with one hand and straddled him.

Spike grabbed my hips in his hands and thrust upwards inside me. "Baby," he gasped, closing his eyes.

Leaning forward, I grabbed the headboard with both hands. "You feel so good," I told him, as I moved up and down. "God, I missed this, I missed you." He was so hard, so big. It had never been as good as this, and it had always been good. I was already starting to slide, my orgasm bubbling under the surface.

"Slayer," he said. He opened his eyes and stared up at me. "Buffy."

"Love you," I replied. "Love you so much." I bent down and kissed his lips gently, his eyelids, and trailed kisses across his face as we moved in rhythm.

"Ahh!" he groaned, and he came inside me in a liquid rush.

"Oh, yeah," I cried out, gripping the headboard hard as I was overcome by searing, molten pleasure.

I came back to myself, panting. I tried to move but realized I was stuck. The cast iron of my bed was a twisted mess, completely contorted by my hands. I jerked free and laughed as I rolled off of Spike.

"What’s so funny?" Spike said with a smile.

"You made me break the bed," I said, pointing upwards.

He looked up and laughed, then put his arm around me and drew me close. "I can’t wait to hear the story you concoct to explain away that one. "

"I think I’ll just say, "Spike was screwing me so mind-blowingly well that I lost all sense of reality and pulled a Hulk’."

"That would go over well with the Scoobies," he chuckled. "They’d be rushing for the pointy stakes."

"I won’t let them hurt you," I promised. "I’ll protect you." I pulled him close and kissed him deeply.

"Just want to save my ass so you can kick it yourself," he teased. He smiled, his eyes full of light, more relaxed than I’d ever seen him.

"I like kicking your ass," I said. "It’s a nice ass to kick." I moved my hand down his back, cupping his cheek. "You tired?"

He brushed away the hair that was stuck to my jaw. "Do you really care or is that Buffy speak for ‘I want more sex?’"

"I want more sex," I said. "Much sweaty sex. We have lots of lost time to make up for."

He frowned, and sat up, running a hand through his hair. "I really should get going."

"Work?"

He shook his head. "I have somewhere to be."

"What kind of a thing could you have?" I asked. "If you don’t have work tonight, what else do you need to do?"

"Something else planned," he said.

What the hell? It’s not like he had a full appointment calendar. "Well, can’t you cancel it? I mean, I tell you that I love you, and we go to bed, and now you just want to take off?"

"We fucked," he said. "What more do you want? I have to go." He rolled out of bed and pulled on his pants.

I fought off a wave of panic. This is what happens when you fall in love- everything falls apart. "Why are you being this way?" I asked. "I know that this is more than just getting off for you. We love each other." He pulled on his shirt, facing away from me. "Is it something I did? Is it something I didn’t do?" I thought of the girl that Dawn had told me about. "Do you love someone else?"

"If you want my body, you’re welcome to it," he said, fastening his belt. "I’m being honest about what you can expect from me. Some people appreciate that."

He left, and I walked across to the bathroom. I turned on the faucet and watched the hot water fill up the tub. I had really, really fucked up somewhere, and I didn’t know how to fix it. He still loved me, I knew it. I wasn’t fooling myself; I could feel it, sense it. But how could I make him show it?


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3

It's no secret that the stars are falling from the sky  
The universe exploded 'cause of one man's lie  
Look, I gotta go, yeah I'm running outta change  
There's a lot of things, if I could I'd rearrange

-U2, “The Fly”

My nice, civilized dinner looked more like a WWE match. Giles and Dawn argued over the last helping of mashed potatoes, knocking over a virtually untouched bowl of Brussels sprouts. Xander reached out to grab a brownie off the platter, and Willow smacked his hand. “Hey!” he exclaimed, looking hurt.

“You can’t eat that,” Willow argued. “You told me to help you with your low carb diet, remember?”

“Do they make carb free chocolaty goodness?” he asked hopefully.

She went into the kitchen and returned with a silver bar. “Chocolate Fudge Brownie, low carb variety.”

Xander took the bar she offered him and peeled open the wrapper. He bit into it and made a face. “These taste as crappy as those energy bars I tried to sell that one time. Do you remember that?”

“I still have two cases of them in storage,” Giles said. “I remember them well.” He poured some milk into his coffee, stirring it with a spoon.

I took a brownie and bit into it. It was rich and moist and oh so yummy. “Wow, these are fantastic,” I said. “Dawn, that home ec class is really of the good.”

“It’s called Life Skills now,” she corrected. “And I didn’t make them.”

“I did,” the Bot said. She came into the dining room wearing one of Mom’s aprons, which invited us to kiss the cook.

“Who asked you to bake?” I asked. I really, really didn’t want this thing in my life more than necessary.

“Willow suggested that nurturing the people I love would impress Spike.” I looked at Willow and she turned away quickly. “A brownie says ‘I love you.’ And clean clothes say “I value your comfort.” And a shiny sink says, “I wish you well.” She smiled. “I care for the people that I love. Spike admires that about me.”

Willow had turned her into a Stepford Wife. “He admires that you care?”

She nodded. “For Dawn and Harris and Willow and Guyles.” Giles sighed and threw another cube of sugar in his coffee. “I express it by killing things for them and keeping them safe. And now with my attention to hearth and home.” She turned and looked at me. “I have studied the food pyramid and read The Joy of Cooking.” She laughed. “It was somewhat like The Joy of Sex. The illustrations-”

“Whoah,” Xander said, cutting her off. “That’s too much information.”

“What’s the Joy of Sex?” Dawn asked, tilting her head.

“It shows you what positions-” the Bot began, and Willow clapped her hand over its mouth.

“I’ll go refresh your programming,” Willow said, leading her from the room.

“How long has the Bot been taking care of the housework?” I asked Dawn.

“Since you got hurt,” Dawn said. “It’s great. I don’t have to do any of my chores-” She broke off. “I mean…”

“You haven’t been doing any of the chores for weeks, and yet I’ve been paying your allowance?” She looked at me guiltily. “Well, I hope you appreciated your break, because the Bot is going back into mothballs as soon as I’m up to speed.”

The front door slammed, and I turned to see Spike. He looked at me impassively as he stood in the foyer. So much for my fantasy of him falling to his knees, telling me that he loved me and he was so sorry for the way he’d acted after we made love. “You missed dinner,” I said. “I left a message on your machine, asking you to come.” Since, you were, in fact, the whole point of it.

“I got it,” he said. “I had other plans.”

What other plans? This was driving me insane. “Well, there are plenty of brownies left, if you’d like some.”

He didn’t move. “That’s alright.” He shifted his weight, uncomfortable. “So, you ready to patrol or should I come back later?”

Giles stood up and pulled on his jacket. “Let’s go. Another storm is coming, so we may as well do it before it hits.”

“Any progress on finding out the cause of all this weather?” Spike asked as they headed into the living room.

I heard the creak of the weapons trunk being opened. “Willow and I have some ideas, but nothing concrete as of yet,” Giles replied.

“Buffy?” Dawn said. I turned to look at her. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said. I realized that I must have looked like I was spacing out while I was eavesdropping.

“You sure you’re ready for patrol?” she asked worriedly.

“Oh, I’m so ready,” I assured her. “Definitely ready to get back into the Slaying saddle.”

Dawn smiled. “Things are finally getting back to normal.”

Spike and Giles stood in the foyer. “Slintoch demons don’t have that kind of power,” Spike was saying. “They’re only frost demons-” The door shut behind them.

“Yeah, normal,” I said.

********

The vampire growled loudly and lunged for my throat. I felt a surge of adrenaline as I punched him in the chest. He stumbled backward, and I kicked him in the head. I raised my stake to finish him off, and he disappeared in burst of golden dust.

“Eat my stake!” the Bot exclaimed loudly, looking very pleased with herself.

“Eat my stake?” I asked Giles.

He turned to me and shrugged. “It could be worse. She is particularly fond of ‘I will dustify you, Jell-o man’ and ‘you poof, lickety split boom’.” We walked through the graveyard, our footsteps the only sound in the quiet night.

“Why was she saying such weird things?”

“She seems to have a rather tenuous grasp on the English language. Much like…” He turned to me with a smile on his lips.

“Compare me to her, and I will totally kick your ass,” I said warningly.

He smiled. “Well, you know-”

A distant scream cut into the stillness, and we both took off running. Dawn. I raced towards her, my feet slipping in the newly fallen snow that now covered layer upon layer of frozen ice. My mind brought forth a flood of images: Dawn hurt; Dawn bitten; Dawn lying on the ground, her unseeing eyes staring upwards. Stop it. Don’t think that way.

I twisted and turned through the jumble of crypts and mausoleums, finally reaching her. Spike and Dawn were crouched at the foot of a monument decorated with a tall stone angel. He held Dawn as she shook, crying into his chest as she grasped his shirt.

“What happened?” I sank to the ground next to them. “Is she okay?”

“She got bit,” Spike explained. “Little bastard got a taste of her before she offed him.” He patted her back.

“Is it bad?” I asked anxiously. “Let me see.”

Dawn shook her head, pressing her face closer into Spike. His hands tightened on her shoulders. He gestured for me to come closer, and I bent my ear to his mouth. “She’s afraid that you won’t let her patrol anymore,” he whispered. “Niblet’s afraid she let you down.”

I pulled on Dawn’s shoulder and she turned to look at me. Her face was streaked with pink, her eyes wet with tears. “Let me see,” I said. She turned her head and showed me. It wasn’t pretty; she’d fought, and instead of two tiny holes, she had two jagged wounds in her neck.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice squeaky.

“It happens,” I said. “Sometimes things just happen. It’ll be okay.” She hugged me tightly, and I kissed her head. “You’re a good fighter, Dawnie. I’m really proud of you.”

“He didn’t get anything serious,” Spike explained. “It looks worse than it is. But I should take her back and get her patched up.”

“I’ll take her home myself,” I said, as we helped Dawn to her feet.

“I know how important this is to you,” Spike said. “Your first night back with the Slaying. You’ve really missed it.”

I had, so much. Even now, my body was totally juiced for a fight, and I hadn’t really seen any action yet. “Dawn’s more important,” I said firmly, and I meant it.

“Spike can take me home,” Dawn said. He put his arm around her and looked at me, waiting.

“Okay,” I said, giving in. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

“I’ll look after her,” he said. “No worries, Buffy.” I watched them walk across the frozen landscape, getting smaller and smaller.

“A soul doesn’t change what he is,” said a quiet voice. I turned to see Giles looking at me worriedly.

“The soul changes everything,” I replied.

“Not that he is a vampire,” Giles said. “Not that he is a monster. You must remember that, Buffy.”

I looked away, unable to meet his gaze. I didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to share this, didn’t want to deal with what he’d say, what they would all say. “I remember, Giles. I do.”

He took my chin in his hand and lifted it so that I was forced to look at him. “Then stop this before it begins again,” he said. “You know that no good can come of it. Don’t you?”

I refused to believe that. “He is good,” I said.

“And if the soul is stripped away, what then?” he asked.

“He’s not Angel,” I argued. “He’s chipped.”

Giles looked at me seriously. “And if the chip malfunctions, or he manages to remove it?”

“Then he’ll still have changed,” I said. “He loves me, and I love him. I trust that.” And I did.

“Angel loved you too,” Giles said. “It didn’t change what he did to me, or you.”

I saw where this train of thought was leading. “Or Jenny,” I added.

“Or Jenny,” he confirmed.

“There’s no darker side, no other self,” I said. “There’s just Spike.”

“How can you be sure?” Giles asked. “How much do you really know, about who he is?”

Loud footsteps in the snow warned us that someone was coming. Willow appeared leading the Bot, who was walking stiffly, her eyes wide. “It’s very, very dark.”

“You just jammed your vision circuit,” Willow explained. She looked at me. “I need to get her back home.”

“We may as well all call it a night,” Giles said. “There’s very little stirring tonight as it is.”

We headed back to the house, crunching across the snowy field. There was no one out there, the whole town blanketed in snow and silence. “It’s really eerie, how quiet it is. I didn’t even get a chance to kill anything,” I complained.

“Coming from anyone else, that would sound kind of psychotic,” Willow commented. “But with you, I guess it means you’re back, Slayer wise.”

“I’m back and I’m bad,” I said, spinning a stake. “For what it’s worth.”

We reached my house and Willow led the Bot inside. Giles took my hand as I put my foot on the bottom step. “Walk with me a minute,” he asked.

I walked next to him as we headed down the block toward his car. “Please consider what I said earlier. I know that you are a grown woman, and your private life is none of my business.”

“I’m sensing a but,” I told him.

“But,” he went on, “I think rekindling any kind of romantic relationship with Spike would bring nothing but pain, to either of you.”

“We’ve never had a romantic relationship,” I said. “Giles, I used him. I took how he felt about me, and twisted it and made it something dark and painful. I want to show him that things can be different now. I owe him that much.”

“Love is not a balance sheet, Buffy,” Giles said. “There is no way to add on to make up for what’s been lost.”

I realized what he was saying. “You don’t think he loves me anymore.”

“He’s involved with someone else, and he cares for her deeply,” Giles said. “He brought her to meet me today, and I know that was more for your benefit than mine. He is sending you the message that it is over. That is the reality. You must accept it.”

There was no way I could accept that. “But we slept together,” I said. “He wouldn’t do that if it didn’t mean anything.”

“Buffy,” he said gently. “I have been with many women. But I loved only one.”

“He’s not you,” I replied. “I know he loves me. He’s lying to us, and to himself.” I turned to leave, trying to hold back my tears.

He grabbed my hand. “Let this go, please. There is a huge threat to our lives now. The signs are all there for a coming Apocalypse, one we may not evade this time. Focus your energy on your duty, Buffy, not your desires.”

I pulled away and went back into the house. Dawn’s room was fast asleep, and I found Willow in her room, working on the Bot. “Where’s Spike?”

“He left as soon as we came in,” she explained. “He said he had to go.”

To see the mysterious Chloe, no doubt. I went downstairs to my training room and slipped on my gloves. Punching my speed bag over, and over, the impact of my hands into it, became the world for me. I lost track of time, stopping when my knuckles were red and swollen, and my mind was empty of everything.

********

The next night was equally lacking in vamp activity. The Bot and I patrolled alone, the rest of the Gang hanging at Xander’s, eating pizza and watching videos.

“I think we killed all the demons,” the Bot said helpfully. “Maybe we’re done now, with the Slaying.”

What an amazing thought. I sank into it for a second. Regular life, no ruined clothes, no life threatening injuries. “There’s always something else to fight,” I told her. “You can never let your guard down.”

“If I weren’t a Slayer, I’d like to be a homemaker,” the Bot said. “I like laundry, and cooking, and caring for others.” She smiled wistfully. “I’d like to have a family.” She turned to look at me. “If I ever had a baby, I’d want it to have Spike’s pretty eyes.”

He did have pretty eyes. “But that can never happen,” I said briskly.

“Because we are apart now?” she said with a shrug. “On the television, I saw a program. It explained what he is doing.” She looked thoughtful. “Spike is sowing his wild oats.”

“Spike is what?”

“He is sowing his wild oats. All men do this before they settle down. They need to feel that they have chosen the right one, the perfect woman. He’ll come back to me,” she said confidently.

I looked at her, and for the first time, I could see myself in her. This was what I thought, too, when I thought of the way he was acting, and doing whatever with Chloe. “How can you be sure it’s just a passing thing?” I asked. “How do you know he’ll come back?”

“Knowing me has given his life meaning,” she explained, her face rapt. “Loving me is a blessing, a ray of light in the dark. In a world of millions of souls, he found me, and it is destiny. Together we make each other stronger. He is the one I never knew I needed, and we will never part. Someday, he will come back for me. Because it is meant to be.”

He’d programmed that into her. His feelings for me, his hopes and dreams. He believed we were destined, and I believed it too. I needed to see him, now, and make him understand.

“You go on home,” I told the Bot. “I have somewhere to be.” I took off running, headed for Spike, and my destiny.

*******

I let myself into Xander’s apartment. Willow and Dawn were snuggled up with Xander, each of them leaning a head on his shoulder. His head was tilted back, and he was asleep, lightly snoring.

“Hey Buff,” Willow said. “Come watch and eat.” She gestured to an open box with a half eaten pizza.

“Is Spike here?” I asked.

“He’s out with Chloe,” Dawn said. “They left a little while ago.”

Chloe, again. I went into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of beer and a plate. “What’s she like?”

“She’s wonderful,” Willow said. “You should remember her. She was in your poetry seminar.”

I sat down next to the coffee table and grabbed a slice of veggie deep dish. “Chloe from Professor Lillian’s class?” I asked, trying to picture her.

“She’s pretty memorable,” Willow said. “Long black hair, pretty face.”

“I don’t remember,” I said. I’d been pretty wrapped up in Riley and Glory and Mom’s death, at the time.

“Chloe’s the editor of the college literary magazine, now. She started a poetry slam at the Expresso Pump. They’re there now, setting up for the opening tomorrow night,” Willow explained.

“I really like her,” Dawn said. “She’s so smart and really, really nice too.”

“She sounds wonderful.” Bitch. I popped the top off my beer and took a long, steady sip. “Spike’s one lucky guy.”

I settled in to watch The Princess Bride. “As-you- wish,” yelled Wesley, as he tumbled down a huge hill. Princess Buttercup’s face contorted with horror and realization. “Oh, my sweet Wesley!” she exclaimed. “What have I done?” She threw herself after him, exclaiming with pain as she fell. “Ow! Ow!”

I could relate.

******

It was a free country. Anyone could come to a poetry reading. The Expresso Pump was dim and dark, and filled with people. The hum of chatter and laughter lent a party feeling to the gathering.

A woman took the stage, dressed in a black chiffon dress. Little mirrors sewn on it reflected in the light of the spots that illuminated her. “Welcome to the poetry slam,” she said. “My name is Chloe Albright, and I’ll be your host tonight.”

The crowd whooped and hollered appreciatively and she blushed, bowing her head to hide behind her thick dark hair. She was delicate, like Drusilla. “Our first poet is Ted Rossing. Come on up, Ted.”

A thin man with long brown hair took the stage, pulling up the mike to the right height. “Two snakes entwined,” he read. “Brown scales slide as reptile hisses.”

I made my way through the crowd, looking for Spike. I soon spotted him, sitting at a table on the other side of the room. Chloe was leaning in close, talking in his ear, and he nodded. He kissed her forehead and got up, gesturing for a waiter. I watched him as he spoke to the barista, handing her a twenty.

The crowd applauded, and Chloe got up and took the stage again. “Thanks, Ted,” she said. “That was intriguing, as always.” She rifled through the sheets of paper in her hand nervously. “Well, I wasn’t going to share anything tonight, because as some of you may know, I haven’t felt much like writing. But I was inspired recently, and so I do.”

“The lonely man lives in a world of gears,” she read. “Tick tock, mind the clock.

“Springs and levers to eat and sleep. Cranks and pulleys whir, eating his dreams and shredding his spirit.

“No love in the clockworks. No future in the factory. No respect in this assembly line. Destiny whistles on the half hour.

“His prison cell, his death time knell. His collar and his leash. Plastic and circuitry, keeping him a slave.

Jesus Christ, she knew about the chip. I turned to watch Spike. His eyes were fixed upon her as she read.

“The lonely man lives in a world of possibilities. Gears rust. Springs break. Belts snap.

“Someday, he’ll be free.”

The room was silent for a moment, and then it burst out in applause. “Thanks,” she said shyly. Spike stood up and walked to the stage, kissing her on the cheek. “Ladies and gentleman, this is my friend William Lambert,” she announced. “His chapbook Siren Songs is being published this winter by the Four Quarters Press, and he has been awarded a grant by the Monterey Poets Society.”

“She does so like to brag for me,” he said with a smile, and the audience laughed. She walked down the steps, and sat down at their table. He reached in his pocket and put on a pair of small glasses with gold frames, and began to read.

“It is a dark wilderness. Interiors filled with emptiness, room upon room without meaning. Shadows eat the shades of gray, leaving black ripples in their wake.

“Savage beauty is a thunderbolt in my chest. The knowing begins then, with the golden spark of her hair. Awaking from a seamless world to find hope, slithering like a snake into Paradise.

Rotting from within, the semblance of love empty and tainted. The Slayer takes all, magnificent Kali destroying all she touches. Dreams become ashes, loneliness the only constant.

Obsession breeds obsession. Love is bared, ripped screaming from the center. The foundation topples, leaving only crumbs.

Monster breeds monster. Out of their dreadful clashing arises a frail spirit. In blood it died, in fire it is reborn.

The fearsome cauldron of her love is as deep as ages. Uncertainty is death. Fortune favors the brave.

Straining to slip free of her fearsome call. She sings her siren song, and I swerve to avoid the rocks. With the force of the inevitable, I drown, lost within her.”

The room was completely still for a moment, and then the crowd burst into applause. I turned, feeling numb. He thought I’d destroyed him.

I walked outside, the freezing air whipping my hair around me. Seeing nothing, hearing nothing, I walked back home. When I finally arrived, my face numb from the cold, Willow was sitting on the couch.

“Hey Buffy,” she said. “You just missed the funniest thing…” She stood up, the afghan on her lap spilling to the floor. “Buffy, what’s wrong?”

I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t feel. I was just empty.

“Sweetie?” Willow said worriedly. She stood in front of me, closing her warms hands around my frozen ones. “Buffy?”

He thought I’d destroyed him. “It’s too late, it was always too late for us and I never knew,” I said.

She looked at me with concern. “This is about Spike, isn’t it?”

I nodded. “I love him so much and it’s too late. I fucked it up. I ruined everything.” My voice shook as the words tumbled out. “He won’t tell me anything, but he’ll tell her. He’ll share with a room full of strangers before he opens up to me.” My control shattered, and I began to cry.

“It’s okay,” Willow assured me, pulling me into a deep hug. “It’ll all be okay, Buffy.”

“He hates me,” I cried. “He hates me, Will.”

“Shh,” she said soothingly. “Just let it go. Go ahead and let it out.” I did. I let it all go and just let her hold me, her gentle hand patting my back like a baby. “Let it all out, Buffy.”

*******

The next morning, Dawn came into my room and got in bed with me. “Hey,” she said.

“Hi,” I said. She looked at me with concern, her brow furrowed. “Willow told you.”

“Yeah, Willow told me,” said my sister. “I’d like to talk to you about it.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t think that you love Spike, Buffy.”

“But I do love him, Dawnie,” I argued. So much I feel like I’m going to be sick when I think about not getting him back.

“You think you love him because he’s with someone else now,” she said. “That’s all. This isn’t love, this is regret.”

“It’s not like that,” I said.

“Buffy, you see this guy you used to be with, and he’s with a really great girl that everyone likes. You’re alone, and he’s not. That’s why you’re feeling this way.”

“That’s not it,” I argued. “This isn’t about feeling jealous.”

“It feels the same,” she said. “I see RJ walking down the hall with Alicia, and it really hurts me. What we had, it was just a spell, but it felt real. And those feelings, they aren’t gone. They’ve just become something different.”

“But I didn’t have these feelings before,” I said. “What I felt before wasn’t love.”

“How can you be sure? How is this different than the hit me, do me, go away, no, do me thing you guys were doing last year?”

“This is the big love.” I searched for the right words. “This is railroad tracks love, Dawn. If I can’t have him, this world just sucks too much for me to want to be in it.”

She stroked my hair, and I closed my eyes. “That sounds pretty dysfunctional, Buffy.”

“It’s how I feel,” I said. “I need him by my side, more than I need anything.” I stared up at the ceiling, trying to find the right words. “I want us to be together. Being a real couple, sharing, trusting. But none of that will happen if I can’t find him and make him understand that I’ve changed.”

She rested her head on my shoulder. “Have you really changed, Buffy? Into someone that wants to be with him, no matter what?”

Yes. Whatever it takes.

******

I knocked on the door of Xander’s apartment. He opened the door wearing a pair of sweatpants, looking groggy. “Hey Buffy. This is not really a good time.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I was actually here to see Spike.”

Xander looked away. “I was going to call you later, but I got kind of distracted.” I noticed he had scratches all over his chest, and a large red hickey on either side of his neck. I leaned forward, and saw the white circle of a bite mark on his shoulder.

Xander was getting some. “I can see that,” I said. “Well, I’m sorry I interrupted. Have fun, be safe.”

I turned away, but he put his hand on my shoulder. “Buffy.” I turned to look at him. “Spike is gone.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “I’ll come back layer.”

“Buffy,” he said patiently. “He’s gone, as in the never coming back variety.”

I felt like I was going to faint. Don’t fall, don’t fall. “How do you know?”

“Because he told me,” Xander explained. “Took all of his crap, gave me his key and left.”

“But he couldn’t just leave,” I said. “Not without saying goodbye.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied, but his eyes said he wasn’t. “But it’s for the best, you know. It’s better this way; you’ll see.”

He was so clueless. “I don’t want to move on,” I said. “Xander, I’m in love with him.”

“I don’t think-” he paused, looking away.

“You don’t think what?” I pressed him.

“I don’t think he feels that way anymore,” Xander said. “I mean- the way he used to look at you, even I could tell there was something deep there. But now- it’s just gone. And that’s for the best, Buffy. Because you need someone who can really be there for you, and that’s never going to be him.”

“You’re wrong,” I said. “All of my life I just wanted to be loved, the way that he loves me. It’s not wrong, with him. It’s right!”

Xander looked at me, with his jaw set and arms crossed. “You’ll get over it. He’s already over you, Buffy, or he wouldn’t have had some other girl here, packing his stuff.”

“What’s taking you so long?” asked Anya. She came out of the bedroom, a sheet trailing around her. “Oh, hi Buffy.”

“Did he leave me a note?” I asked Xander. “Anything?”

“He said to tell you that you need to work on your right flank, because you’re still not a hundred percent on that side after your injury.”

“That’s all?” I asked.

“That’s all.”

I turned and ran down the hallway. I had to find him, had to stop him. He needed to understand how much I loved him, so I could show him that things had changed for me. I refused to believe that things had changed for him. It couldn’t end this way, it just couldn’t.

*****

“He left me a letter,” Dawn said. “I found it in the mailbox while you were at Xander’s.” She was rummaging in the refrigerator, and she came out with a roll of cookie dough. Setting it down on the counter, she pulled out a sharp knife, slitting open the plastic wrapper.

“Can I see it?” I asked.

She looked at me as if I had gone insane. Again. “Noooo. It’s private.” She cut off a hunk of cookie dough and ate it.

“Dawnie, I need to see the letter.”

“Have some cookie dough,” she said. “It’s yummy.”

“That’s gross,” I said.

“No, gross is your attempts at casseroles,” she said. “This is good.” She cut herself another piece.

“Stop changing the subject.” I said. “I need you to get me the letter from Spike. Now.” I used my bossiest, hardest Mom voice.

Didn’t faze her a bit. “It’s private, between him and I.” She turned and looked at me, looking annoyed. “Buffy, the letter is about me. There’s nothing in it that you need to know.”

“I have to see it.”

“I said no,” Dawn said. “Stop asking me. You’re – pissing me off.” She slammed down the knife on the counter and walked down the hallway.

“I’ll take you shopping,” I said, following her into the living room.

“No.”

“I’ll let you get your navel pierced.”

“No.”

“I’ll let you drink a wine cooler. You and me, sitting right here in the living room, drinking wine coolers.”

“Buffy-”

“Shopping, wine coolers, belly button ring.”

“Buffy!” Dawn was totally exasperated, hands on hips. “You sound totally pathetic and obsessed and it’s no good. He’s gone.”

I felt a surge of panic. No, he can’t be gone. “I have to find him,” I argued.

“Spike doesn’t want you to know where he is,” she said, stressing every word. “He wants to make a fresh start. You need to respect that.”

“I really love him, Dawn, and I have to tell him that,” I said. ‘I deserve a chance to say it, and I think he deserves a chance to hear it.”

She came back downstairs and handed me an envelope. I went out on the back porch and sat on the top step, unfolding the letter.

Slayerina-

I’m sorry that I left you without saying goodbye. I know I promised you that I’d never do it again, when you and I went down to the dock and made our peace. Some promises just can’t be kept.

I love you, and there won’t ever be a day that passes that I don’t think of you. You’re in my heart, always. If things were different, there’s nothing I’d love more than to see you every day, and help you grow, and punch out all the stupid gits that come sniffing round my girl.

But things are what they are.

About now, Slayer’s flipped her lid. Ranting and raving, probably lots of rot about how she loves me, she needs me, and she has to find me. Don’t believe any of it. Don’t let it give you false hope, or make you wish it were true. She’s good at that, you see; giving you just enough to build a dream on, but pulling it away before it comes true.

Can’t play Charlie Brown any more, niblet. Not even for your sake.

Be good. Mind your sister. Don’t believe anything boys tell you. Work on your crossbow; you’re still tilting left a bit.

Have a good life, Dawn.

Spike

Wonderful. Zero clue here. I went inside, and Dawn looked at me warily. “Did that help any?”

“Not from a hunting him down point of view, but yes. I know he loves me, or he wouldn’t have written that letter.”

“Give it up, Buffy,” she said. “Please, just let it go.”

“I can’t and I won’t.” I thought for a moment. “He didn’t tell us where he was going. Who else does he know? There’s Clem.”

“Clem took a job at Disney World,” Dawn explained. “He’s Goofy.”

“Well, that’s about it for friends. Spike’s not the most sociable guy right now.”

Dawn looked serious. “You could ask Chloe, if she’s still here.”

I got her drift. “You think he took her with him?”

“I’d say it’s worth thinking about,” she said. “I hate to be, you know, blunt, but how are you going to feel if you chase him down and he’s with her?”

“I have to try,” I insisted. “I can’t just lose him without a fight.”

She thought for a moment. “You could try Farinelli’s.”

“What’s Farinelli’s?”

“The restaurant where he works. If he was really leaving, he’d have to let them know.”

*******

I walked into the restaurant. It was a nice place, with Italian scenes painted on the walls and low, romantic lighting. There was a blond woman setting a table, carefully placing silverware on the snowy white tablecloth. “Hi,” I said.

She looked up at me, startled. “Hello.” She was very pretty, her eyebrows plucked into high arches, framing large blue eyes.

“Do you know someone named Spike, who used to work here?”

She looked at me oddly. “Spike? That’s a really weird name.”

I sighed. What a waste of time. “Thanks.” I remembered Chloe’s introduction at the coffeehouse. “William Lambert,” I said. “Blond hair, blue eyes, pierced ears.”

“That’s William,” she said. “Why do you call him Spike?”

“Nickname.”

“Weird one, for a sweet, quiet guy like him.” She sighed. “Really too bad that he’s gay.”

“He’s not gay,” I argued. Way, way far from it.

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. Look, if he wasn’t gay I would have totally nailed him,” she said with a leer. She waved her hand, her long turquoise nails moving close to my face. “But then he came in with the pierced ears, talking about the guy he lived with, and I got the picture.”

Well, that explained the earrings. Poor Spike. “We had a fight, and I really need to know where he’s gone.” She looked me over, and I thought she was wavering. “Just give me his new address,” I said. “Please.” I fumbled in my pocket, pulling out a fifty-dollar bill. “Please.”

“You know you’re acting like a psycho, right?” she said.

“It’s not like that,” I said. “He just doesn’t understand how much I love him, and I need to find him and make him understand.”

She looked at me with utter disgust. “Get out of here and out of my face before I call the cops.”

“Please,” I said. “Please just help me.”

“Nicco!” she yelled. “We have a nut ball stalker here. Can you call the cops?”

******

I’d faced apocalypse after apocalypse, sent my boyfriend to hell and died twice. I still didn’t feel prepared to face the woman that Spike seemed to have feelings for.

I took a deep breath and knocked on the door of her apartment. After a moment, she opened the door. “Yes?” Chloe wasn’t wearing a speck of makeup, dressed in a black sweater and jeans, but she looked beautiful. I really hated this girl.

“Hi,” I said. “I’m Buffy.” She looked at me blankly. “Buffy Summers?”

She smiled in recognition. “Dawn’s big sister. It’s a pleasure to meet you!” She shook my hand and opened her door wide. “I have class in a half hour, so I can’t chat long.”

I walked in, and saw that a stack of cardboard boxes had been shoved between a futon couch and a papasan chair. I recognized Spike’s handwriting, sprawled across the sides. “Papers”, “Books” ,“Clothes”. “William’s things,” she explained.

“Is he moving in here?” I asked.

She smiled. “Hopefully, after he comes back from Monterey.” She walked into the kitchen. “Would you like a drink?”

“Just some water,” I said.

Chloe returned with a thick tumbler filled full. I took it and sat down on the couch. She had some kind of pretty potpourri on the table, and it smelled like cinnamon. “So he’s in Monterey?”

She nodded. “William’s working on his next chapbook. He got a grant, so he’s taking some time to focus on his poetry.” She looked at me hesitantly. “I don’t mean to be rude, but why are you here?”

Good question. “I borrowed a book from him,” I lied. “I’d like to return it.”

“You can leave it with me until he gets back,” she offered, tucking a long strand of hair behind her ear.

“Can I have his address?” I asked. “I’ll mail it to him.”

Chloe shook her head. “He doesn’t want to be disturbed. He’s-” She sipped her water, looking away. Things were not perfect in Chloeville. Good. “He’s making some decisions about his future, about what he wants. He needs his privacy.” She stood up, our visit clearly over. “I remember you now,” she said, looking at me with her piercing green eyes. “You were Riley Finn’s girlfriend.”

“That’s right,” I said.

“How’s he doing?” she asked curiously.

“Happily married,” I said. “To someone not me.”

Chloe smiled politely. “Well, good for him.” She walked me to her door, and there was a crash and a bang that made us both jump. “Loki,” she said, annoyed. “That damn cat.” She turned and rushed into the kitchen.

I waited for her to come back, looking at the pictures hanging on her wall. There were several of Spike, including one where he was kissing her hand as she laughed. I looked away, and my attention was drawn to the bundled pile of mail that sat on the hall table. A blue and white cardboard envelope was on the bottom. “William Lambert,” I could make out. “900-”

She came back out, brushing white cat hair off her sweater. “Sorry to leave you hanging like that.”

“No problem,” I assured her.

“Feel free to drop off William’s book,” she said. “Have a good day.” I said goodbye and left. I turned into an alley, and peeked my head around the corner. No one came out. I waited for about ten minutes, hoping Chloe didn’t go out the back.

She didn’t. She walked outside, her purse over her shoulder and the pile of mail in her hands. I ducked my head back down the alley as she headed in my direction. She walked past, and I waited a minute, then followed her. At the corner of Porter, she opened the mailbox on the corner and dumped the mail in, walking away.

I waited, and waited, until the coast was clear. Running over to the mailbox, I punched in the door on the back. I sank to my knees, feeling around for a large cardboard envelope as hundred of letters poured out at my feet.

I grabbed four Priority Mail envelopes and set them aside. Not one of them was the right one. I saw two more of the big envelopes, way back in the back. I shoved my head in the mailbox and strained forward with my arms. They were stuck up top near the drop off. “Will-” I could make out, in the dark inside the box.

“Hey!” said a loud voice. I pulled my head out of the box and saw a fat mailman running towards me, his huge bag flapping against his legs. “Hey you! Stop!”

I shoved my head back in and with a lunge and pulled down the two envelopes. I heard one rip as I scrambled backwards. I got to my feet and took off running hell for leather.

“Tampering with the mail is a federal crime!” the postal clerk yelled as I rounded the corner.

*****

“You’re on crack,” said Dawn. “This is nuts, totally nuts.”

I kept packing, throwing my clothes into a duffel bag. “It’s what I have to do.”

“Chloe told you that he was moving in with her when he got back,” Dawn argued. “This is stupid.”

“He needs the time to convince himself that he doesn’t love me,” I said. “I need to get there before he can.” I handed Dawn a bank envelope full of twenties. “I’ll be back soon. If you need help, ask Giles or Willow.”

I grabbed the bag and ran down the stairs. “I hope it works,” she called after me. “And I’m going to stock up on Ben and Jerry’s in case it doesn’t.”

“He loves me,” I called. “Bank on it.”

The bot was sitting on the couch reading “Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus”. “You’re going to go be with your man?” the Bot asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“I hope that he comes back to you,” she said. “You just have to know it, with all your heart, like I’m sure of Spike. I hope that your man loves you, the way that mine loves me.” I felt sorry for her, all of a sudden. I knew that my dream might never come true, but I was absolutely certain hers wouldn’t.

“I hope you get what you want,” I said. “Good luck.”

“I don’t need luck,” she said with a luminous smile. “I have love.”

I rushed down the front steps and banged into Willow. She fell to the ground, her groceries scattering. “Sorry!” I said, helping her up.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to Monterey to see Spike,” I explained. “Please take care of Dawn.”

“I will,” she promised.

I turned to leave, and something occurred to me. “One more thing, Willow. How sophisticated is the technology that made the Buffybot?”

She listened intently as I explained what I had in mind.

*******

I sped along the highway, headed north. After hours of driving, I turned off at the exit and followed the coast until I saw the sign I was looking for. ‘The Dunes’.

I drove down a long lane, and the smell of the ocean grew stronger. The road ended at a huge Victorian house, its lights empty. ‘Closed for the Season’ declared a sign that was strung across the front steps. “Caretaker’s cottage,” said a neatly labeled arrow, pointing to the right. A red motorcycle was parked in the gravel lot, and I pulled in next to it.

I grabbed my bag out of the Jeep and followed the path of crushed shells to a small bungalow. Opening the door, I stepped inside.

The living room was neat and tidy, the kitchen small and sparkling clean. There was a door to the left and one to the right. I chose the left. Spike lay sleeping on a mattress that lay on the floor. He was totally nude, his arm thrown across his face.

I slipped off my dress and stepped out of my panties, kicking them aside. I lay down on the bed next to him, putting my arm around his waist. He murmured and slid his hand around to cup my ass. “Buffy,” he said sleepily.

Everything I’d been worrying about was irrelevant. I was the one he still wanted. “That’s me,” I said, kissing his shoulder.

He turned over and smiled at me. His eyes were barely open, the dim blue green of beach glass in the low light. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” I said, cupping his cheek.

Spike jerked back. “Fuck!” He scrambled out of bed, jerking up the sheet and covering himself. “Put your clothes on,” he said, fuming.

No, no, no. This was all wrong. “Don’t be this way,” I said. “I love you and-”

“Bugger it,” he fumed. He picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. My head dangled, giving me a view of firm thigh and calves as he walked across the floor. He opened a door, and I felt the cold air hit my skin. “Don’t!” I yelled, realizing.

He tossed me outside, and I landed on my ass in a pile of sand. The door slammed shut behind me. I stood up and waited for him to let me in. He wasn’t going to leave me standing alone, naked, on a beach. He loved me. He would not do this to me.

I heard the distant rumbling of thunder. Small drops of rain began to fall. “Spike!” I yelled, and thunder boomed, closer this time. The rain began in earnest, slamming into me like dozens of tiny needles. Lighting cracked over the ocean, as the sky dumped down a cascading sheet of water, and the ocean churned with the force of it.

The door opened, and Spike gestured for me to come inside, and I shook my head no. “You daft, woman? Come in out of the rain.”

“Come out into it,” I said. He tilted his head and squinted at me, obviously sizing me up for a spiffy back fastening white jacket. “If you love me,” I said, “you’ll come on out.” He looked at me warily, not giving an inch. “You belong with me.”

“I can’t risk it,” he said, running his hands through his hair. “I’m just not-” He broke off, looking at his feet. “I’m not as strong as you are, Buffy.”

“You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.” I argued. “I need that strength. I need you. Life sucks without you, and I want you to come home.”

“To your bed,” he said. “Living off of scraps, it’s not enough.”

“It’s not like that,” I said. “I love you, Spike.”

“You don’t know what love is, Buffy,” he said, exasperated. “Love isn’t just getting what you want. It’s sharing, building something. You’re not willing to do that with me.”

“I’ll let you into my heart, to my home, to my life,” I said. “Let me show you that I’ve changed. I don’t expect you to open up to me all at once, because I know I’ve hurt you horribly. Just give me a chance.”

He didn’t move. “I can’t lose you again. The first time broke my heart. The second made me lose my mind. I can’t deal with it. I just- can’t.”

“You won’t have to,” I assured him. “I promise, with my heart and soul. With my life, Spike.”

“I want to believe you,” he said, wrapping his arms around his chest tightly. “You don’t know how much.”

“I love you,” I said. “Look in my eyes, and see it, Spike. Feel it.”

Lightning cracked, jolting into the ground down the beach. It was a beautiful bolt of white, leaving the smell of ozone in the air.

He held my gaze for a long time. I stood there, my heart pounding in my chest, as the rain sheeted down, drenching me. “Buffy,” he said finally, in a jagged voice, and he came outside, pulling me into his arms.

He held me close, his arms around my shoulders, and his warm mouth moved over mine. It was peace, and pleasure, and all the things I’d ever wanted, but never had. It was homecoming, thanksgiving, and benediction.

It was love, and we would make it last forever.

*******

Epilogue

Buffy sat on the top step of her back porch, making a stake. Willow asked her to make them a lot. She’d try to help fix something, or make dinner, or play a game with them, and then she’d be right back out here in the yard. She didn’t understand why they needed so many stakes; at last count she’d whittled two hundred and thirty seven. There was a whole pile of them in the backyard that Xander had covered with a plastic tarp. She decided to do something different; she’d make double sided stakes! The other Buffy and Spike would be so, so pleased.

She heard a rustling noise coming forward through the bushes at the rear of the yard. She waited to see what it was; she’d accidentally staked a squirrel once, and Willow had become very angry, and Dawn had cried.

Spike came through the bushes, his face determined. “Buffy.”

Buffy rose to her feet, the stake falling out of her hands, forgotten. “Spike.” She watched him walk towards her, his fair hair shining in the sunlight. The leather duster whirled all around him. She sighed happily. He was wearing the coat! She thought of something. “Spike! The sun! You’ll get all burned up.”

“Not to worry, petal,” he said. He reached the step and lifted her into his arms. She squeaked with surprise. “I am a changed man.”

“You’re a changed man?” she asked, her eyes wide.

“Because you loved me,” he said, smiling down at her. “Because you loved me with all your heart, I am able to be everything you wanted. Everything you need. Right here with you, every step of the way, until the end of time.”

“I’m so happy,” she said, and she felt the tears roll down her cheeks. “Oh, Spike! I do love you with all my heart!”

“And I love you with all my heart,” he said solemnly. “You’re all I think about, all I dream about, all I want in the whole wide world.” He bent down and kissed her, the kind of kiss that said it would be a happily ever after.

In the kitchen window, three heads were watching the couple. One of them sniffled.

“Tell me you’re not crying,” Xander said.

“It’s so sweet,” Willow said. “They’re so in love.”

“Weird, twisted robot love,” he replied, ripping off a piece of paper towel and handing it to her.

“Look at them, Xan,” Dawn said softly.

“Look at what? The mechanical kissing?” He looked out the window and saw the bots. They were smiling at each other, the happiest people he’d ever seen. Well, at least the happiest robots he’d ever seen.

“It is real love,” Dawn said, her eyes soft. “They may not be real, but their love is.”

 

You're in my mind all of the time  
I know that's not enough  
if the sky can crack  
there must be some way back  
for love and only love

-U2, “Electrical Storm”

 

THE END


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